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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394634">When I walk in a dream (Dream no more)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess'>Hectatess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean/Cas Pinefest (Supernatural), Dom/sub Undertones, Dream Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, dream walking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:22:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You can’t control what you dream, and others don’t know what you dream unless you tell them, right? So when Dean starts dreaming about dating Cas, he keeps his mouth shut, and his secret safe… He thinks.</p><p>As an angel, Castiel has the ability to dream walk without the aid of African dream root. He’d started as just a way to communicate with the Winchesters, but then he saw opportunity to stop Dean being disturbed by dreams of his time in Hell. Castiel used Dean’s latent longing for a normal date, to stop those dreams. </p><p>Then the Leviathans get released and Cas disappears. Dean promptly stops dreaming of dating Cas.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to your yearly dose of Pine!<br/>This year I got paired with the amazing Angeltortured. Thank you for making such beautiful art, dear heart! I love it!</p><p>And many thanks to the Pinefest Mods! You bunch are amazing too!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p>It started relatively simple. Dean had a quiet dream, fishing on a dock, when the angel popped in. Ignoring his increased pulse, Dean tried to stay aloof. He hadn’t heard any wings flapping, so he drew a quick conclusion. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” he asked, carefully keeping his tone neutral.</p><p>Castiel confirmed it, and asked Dean to meet him, slipping him an address on a folded note. Dean had awoken with a start and then wondered; had Cas shaped the dream, or had he just walked in, like one walks into a room?</p><p>Of course they lost Castiel for a while that day, what with the God Squad yanking him out of Jimmy and back up to Heaven, and the whole ‘Angel in my dream’ bit got sidelined.</p><p>Losing sight of the angel had Dean in a state he rarely experienced. Worried so bad that he felt sick. Usually he only felt this way with Sam, but apparently, Cas made him worry as well. That worry got worse when Castiel returned and was strangely aloof and distant, like he was when they first met.</p><p>After a while, that strange attitude change evaporated, and the angel grew closer once again, only this time, Dean wanted to be closer still. He started fantasising about Cas’ lips, his eyes, his surprisingly muscled body. (Yeah, ok. He’d stared when Cas had started to strip outside that warehouse in Van Nuys, but who wouldn’t if an actual angel started to undress? He at least wanted to know if there were wings.) </p><p>Dean knew he wasn’t fully straight laced. In days past, just thinking of Gunner Lawless had sixteen year old Little Dean rearing, and who could not like the scruff and cowboy-boots on Dr. Sexy? Hell, he’d blown a few guys before. Sometimes as a cover for a hunt (Thank the sweet Gods of Pie, Sammy didn’t know about those), sometimes to get cash (Thank any Deity listening, that Sammy didn’t know about <em> those </em> either), and even less often because he wanted to (These, Dean would be ok if Sam knew). But fantasising about a guy, getting himself off on it? No. That was uncharted territory for him.</p><p>Dean tried to be good and start off with a few Casa Erotica ladies, but as time passed by, ‘special Dean-time’ increasingly turned to thinking about a certain blue-eyed angel. He tried making it about made up guys, or guys he’d given a once over or two as their paths crossed, but nothing revved his engine like imagining Cas.</p><p>He sighed. After Lisa, and actually taking her on dates before getting to go home with her and living a so-called Dreamlife, Dean had started to daydream more about taking his best friend on a date. But how was Cas going to react? Dating wasn’t quite a thing angels did, was it? Dean sighed loudly in the quiet motel-room.</p><p><em> ‘Ah, Cas,’ </em> he thought. <em> ‘I wish I could take you out on a date. A real one. Dinner and a movie, or even a sappy picnic.’ </em>Another longing sigh, a few tosses and turns, and Dean slowly slid into a deep sleep.</p><p>
  <b>“Hello, Dean.” </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Dean turned at the familiar voice. “Heya Cas,” he replied, ignoring the heart palpitations he got and instead focussed on those blue eyes. Cas looked on his guard, but curious as well. “What’s up, bud?” Dean asked after a too long checking out of his friend. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Am I too early?” the angel rasped out, doing his usual curious head-tilt. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Too early for what, exactly? Cas, what’s going on?” Dean wanted to know.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Cas gestured at Dean’s hand, where, to his surprise, he was holding a wicker basket. One with an old-fashioned handle and two lids. “Wha?” he managed. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Our date, Dean,” Cas explained patiently. “You said it was sappy, but I like being in the open air, and even though I don’t actually need the sustenance, I am willing to oblige you and have some of the food items you made.” Relieved, Dean let out a sigh. Of course, he was dreaming. His wish to have a date, even a sappy picnic one, with Cas, had bled into his unconscious mind and cooked up this dream for him.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Right. Sorry,” he excused himself. “You’re perfectly on time, Cas. My mind had just wandered a bit.” He smiled warmly and trudged up the grassy hill before them, Cas following him up to the top where a lone pine provided shade. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>“I’m uncertain as to what a pick-nick exactly pertains, Dean,” Cas earnestly said. “But I am excited about our date nevertheless.” The angel’s usual formal speech made Dean smile. </b>
</p><p><b>“Me too, Cas. I’ve been looking forward to it for…. feels like forever.” He surveyed the hilltop and nodded. “This’ll do just fine.” He opened one of the basket lids and smiled at the corny, red-and-white checkered tablecloth, before pulling it out and laying it down. “Cas, grab those little rocks, will ya?” he asked, pointing at the four, conveniently positioned, stones just next to the pine tree. Cas smiled and did as Dean asked. When the angel had turned his back, Dean let his eyes roam freely... </b> <b> <em>‘Such a good build. A shame he covers that nice body with that bulky coat.’</em> </b> <b> Knowing this was all a dream, Dean didn’t even feel embarrassed about thinking such thoughts. It wasn’t  like Cas would know them. As Dean weighed the cloth down, Cas took off his trenchcoat, folding it neatly and placing it on a new, flat-topped rock just aside from where Dean had put the cloth. The navy suit-jacket followed and Dean’s throat dried up like a California beach in August. </b></p><p><b>“There, that is less constricting,” Cas said casually, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up and revealing muscular arms. </b> <b> <em>‘Holy shit! He never takes off so many layers! It’s nearly a striptease!  Not that I mind…’ </em> </b> <b>Dean had to admit. To distract himself from all the unexpected bits of flesh Cas was showing, Dean quickly pulled out plates, silverware and cups. Underneath that all, he could spy some burgers, a whole roast chicken and a fruit-salad. He chuckled to himself. He’d never tell Sam, but he loved a fresh fruit-salad. All those sweet, juicy fruit bits. “Dean, do you require assistance?” Cas rumbled softly. Smiling freely at his friend, Dean shook his head. “Nah, Cas. I’m good. You just sit down on the cloth and let me serve you.” Head tilted, eyes wondering, Cas settled himself. A bird chirped annoyingly and Dean waved his hand at it. It stopped abruptly.</b></p><p><b>By the time they had finished their picnic the sun was colouring the sky with vivid oranges and pinks. “I had a wonderful time, Dean,” Cas mumbled as he leaned back on his hands, like Dean did beside him. His blue tie was even more loosened and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone. Dean could see the tanned skin underneath, and he licked his lips. </b> <b> <em>‘Oh God, I wanna kiss him so bad.’</em> </b> <b> In real life, Cas was never this relaxed, this unguarded. Dean decided he liked it, as Cas tilted his head up towards the last rays of the sun, skin golden and healthy, eyes almost closed. “Cas,” he said, feeling braver than he ever would have been when awake. Cas hummed. “Would… would you mind if I… I mean… I kinda want to…” </b></p><p>
  <b>Cas had his eyes open now and they were glued on Dean’s. Shit, this was a dream. It shouldn’t be this hard! “You want to kiss me?” Cas asked kindly. Heat rushed Dean’s cheeks, his heart thumped in his chest, and his voice was barely audible when he said “Yes.” Cas smiled that special smile, all in the eyes and barely anything around the mouth. “I am amenable, Dean,” he said softly, coming closer. “Very amenable.” Dean swallowed hard, wishing that magical time-slowing-down thing that sometimes happens in movies and dreams, would happen now. It did. Dean felt like it was hours, and Cas was just a quarter inch closer. </b>
</p><p>“Dean! Are you ok?” Sam’s worried voice splintered the dream and had Dean upright before even opening his eyes. “Mnh? Hmn?” was all he managed before Sam shook him by the shoulder. “Christ, Dean, you had me worried!” Sam elaborated. “It’s two hours after you’d said to be ready, yet I heard your alarm go off at the set time.” Prying his eyes open, Dean groaned. “The fuck, Sam? Why did you wake me up? I was having the most amazing dream…” His little brother recoiled a bit. “Gross. Don’t need details. Definitely not. Jerk!” he groused. “Oh shut up, bitch!” Dean shot at him, mood definitely soured before even swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Cas had been so close! Dean imagined he had felt the angel’s breath on his lips. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, recalling the feeling. He could get used to this kind of dream.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Sammy,” Dean called a few weeks later, as he turned down the music that was filling the Impala. Sam immediately turned around to him, his sunflower eyes slightly worried. “Ok, What’s the problem, Dean?” the big yeti calmly asked. “Problem? I don’t… I mean… it’s not really… look,” he faltered. “Ever since Hell, I’ve had nightmares, every night at first, then gradually less and less. But I still had one about every week or so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam nodded. “That’s logical. Hell is, very literally, Hell to forget. I’d be worried if you didn’t have any nightmares about it.” Dean gulped, driving Baby to the side of the road and killing the engine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Worry was now etched fully on Sam’s face. “What’s going on, Dean?” Taking a deep breath, Dean turned to face his little brother. This was going to be so hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what’s happening,” Dean admitted softly. “The nightmares, they’re... getting less isn’t quite right. They, well, they’re just gone!” Sam looked at him, surprise visible on every inch of his face. “Gone,” he reiterated. “Not less frequent, not fading away? Just gone?” Dean nodded. With a brief sigh, Sam sat back. “Well, that can’t be good...” he mumbled, voicing Dean’s exact  thoughts. “But you still dream?” Sam carefully inquired. Another nod from Dean. “Yeah,” he replied, eyes glued on the fields in front of them. “Mostly fun memories, and ehm.... once... a.... a date with... someone I have never dated.” He could feel his cheeks burning. “A date? Huh,” Sam huffed. “And that’s the only, non-hellish, non-memory based, dream you’ve had in....” he angled. Biting his lip, Dean fought down the blush. “Couple o’ weeks,” he admitted softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam sighed and caught Dean’s hand between his own. “Dean... you should’ve told me sooner.” With a scoff, Dean pulled free. “I was just glad I wasn’t dreaming of Hell anymore, Sam. Sorry if I wasn’t instantly worried.” He picked at a cuticle. “The date thing, it... it was actually the start of the non-Hell dreams. Haven’t had a single one since the date dream.” Sam scratched his head. “I don’t know, man. Maybe we should call Cas. See what he can say about this.” Trying to swallow around a dry throat, Dean bit his lip. “Do we have to? I mean... dude’s busy, Sammy,” he tried, but Sam was adamant. “Dude, Cas is the only one who would tell us fairly about Hell. Crowley only brags, other angels would either ignore us, or act all better-than-thou at us and still not give us what we need, Cas wants us to be well informed. He’ll be honest to a fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Dean groused. “I’ll pray.” He closed his eyes and started. “Dear Castiel, we’d be very glad if you..” whup-whup-rustle-rustle. “Hello, Dean.” Dean kept his eyes closed, to hide the longing that he was sure would show in his eyes. “Hey, Cas,” Sam answered for him. “So get this, Dean has suddenly stopped dreaming of Hell.” To gauge Cas’ reaction, Dean blinked open his eyes. Cas did his signature head-tilt as he was waiting for more information. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Uuuhhh! So adorable! He looks like a confused bird or kitten.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. How sappy! “That is a good thing, right?” Cas eventually asked, his blue eyes squinting in confusion. “Yeah, well... yes and no,” Sam tried. “But it is weird how it just... stopped, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas squinted harder. “I... don’t... know, actually,” he stated. “I still do not sleep, or dream.” Was it Dean, or did those blue eyes dart down? “Isn’t that how dreams work?” the angel asked, by now studying his hands in his lap. When Sam huffed a soft laugh, Dean finally stopped looking at Cas. “No, Cas,” Sam smiled. “Dreams coming from bad memories like that, they tend to just... fade away. Get less frequent, less intense, but they rarely stop all together. And certainly not this suddenly.” Still studying those long fingers, Cas nodded twice, obviously processing this information for later. “Yes. Ok. So you two are now worried something is wrong?” he reiterated. “Yeah, Cas. We kinda are,” Dean replied. “Either someone, or something, is messing with my head, or my noggin is getting busted up too much and it’s losing memories.” He saw Cas widen his eyes, blue almost luminescent in the gloomy, raincloud-obscured light. “Either way is bad, Cas.” He swallowed hard as those blue eyes looked at him with that intense stare Cas had, the one that seemed to see your very soul. An idea hit Dean. “Could,” he started, then cleared his throat because, was that his voice? “Could you, you know...” He wiggled his fingers. “...check to see if my egg is scrambled or being scrambled for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tiny strip of pink tongue darted out and licked the lower of those chapped lips quickly. “Breakfast was  a while ago, Dean,” Cas said, confused. “And you had eggs, scrambled for you by a professional chef at that diner.” Dean bit his lip, because Cas’ tone said there was more to come. “But I will see which of those theories is true.” Letting out the breath he was unknowingly holding, Dean smiled. “But before I do,” the angel continued. “...might I add that if someone is influencing Dean’s mind, they might be benign.” Sam scoffed a derisive noise. “It rarely is in our experience, right Dean? Remember the Djinn?” Alarmed, Cas looked directly at Dean again. “Djinn? What kind? Because, you know, there are several types of Djinn.” Resisting the urge to cup the angel’s cheek, Dean sighed. “A regular one, Cas. It showed me my Dreamlife.” He scoffed. “Or what I thought was my Dreamlife. Turned pretty sour after the first few hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was an intrigued head-tilt. Cas was squinting as if he was trying to find a falsehood, but Dean knew by the relaxed shoulders in that tan coat, Cas was merely trying to figure out how that had worked. “Yeah,” he reminisced. “The first cracks appeared when Sam asked me since when did I call him ‘Sammy’ and then proceeded to tell me all the ways we weren’t alike.” A shocked gasp from the passenger-side. “I’d never!” Oh, right. Dean had never come around to telling the full story. “I know you wouldn’t. And you weren’t a hunter, so when that girl kept showing up, and I remembered hunting a Djinn, so I needed mom’s silver? You thought I was stealing from her and accused me of not caring about her or you. What a wish come true, huh?” Cas’ eyes darted from Sam to Dean, empathy obvious. “And you broke free of the dream? That is a sign of a strong mind, Dean.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean scoffed. “I damn near didn’t make it, Cas. So you see? Not a fan of others meddling with my mind.” Cas nodded solemnly. “I will see if there is anything to worry about, concerning your mind,” he sagely stated and pressed two fingers to Dean’s brow. The tingling Cas’ Grace caused was nothing compared to the butterflies that came from the sense of Cas’ warm skin on Dean’s. “I sense nothing wrong with your mind, Dean. It is as fresh as when I rescued you, and I also find no traces of outside sources meddling with it.” Cas’ blue eyes were wide and honest. Ignoring the renewed fluttering in his stomach, Dean smiled at the angel. “Thanks, bud. Guess we’ll have to dig deeper.” He started the engine again. “Best do that somewhere more private.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The motel-employee raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the three men coming in. “Well, hello, boys,” she cooed, closing her magazine. “Yeah, hi,” Sam replied. “We’re gonna need a room for the night.” The lady’s eyes darted past all three, pausing on Cas. “Really. Just the one?” Clearing his throat, Sam leaned closer. “Just the one. Two kings.” A smirk came to her too red lips and she clapped a key on the counter. “401, boys. And don’t make a lot of noise.” Cas frowned at her. “Dean snores, but not very loudly. Is that considered too much?” Heat burning his cheeks, Dean grabbed the tan sleeve and tugged. “C’mon, Cas. That’s enough questions for the lady.” The lady grinned widely at them and popped her gum. “Bye, fellas!” she called as she picked up her magazine.</p><p>Happy to have left that nosy woman behind, Dean closed the door. “Did you see that, Sam? Again!” he burst out. Cas tilted his head at him. “What do you mean, Dean?” Sam chuckled. “It’s a thing that has happened a few times to us. They see us and somehow they assume we’re, ehm... well...” he floundered, ears starting to tinge pink. Dean took pity on him and continued. “They think we’re together.” A confused squint scrunched up Cas’ nose and eyes. “But... you are. There are two of you...” Exasperated, Dean interrupted. “As in a couple, Cas. As in lovers. As in gay as Bert and Ernie.” Taken aback, those blue eyes widened, and they darted from Sam to Dean. “And you are opposed to that?” </p><p>All his internal feelings clashed. Hell no. Sam was one of the most accepting people Dean knew. And Dean himself, well, as a bi-sexual, it would be hypocritical of him to hate on gay people. But what if Cas was opposed to gay people? Would he leave Dean and Sam to fend on their own because they weren’t? What if he found out about Dean’s orientation? Dean gulped and bit the bullet. “Yeah, we are, Cas. Because we’re brothers.” Again that tilt of the head, quietly trying to figure things out. “That is understandable. But if they were to assume the same of... us? Would you... be offended?”</p><p><em> ‘God no! I would be delighted!’ </em> Dean internally cheered. <em> ‘But how about you? Are you and your dick brothers unaccepting?’ </em> He sighed. “No, Cas. I would not. Whatever people do in their spare time, and with whom, it’s not up to me to judge. And I don’t like to be judged either, regardless of whether I am or am not what they think.  Would you be offended?” Cas rubbed his neck. “No,” he replied. “I am totally indifferent to sexual orientation.” Heart skipping a beat, Dean sat down on a bed. “Good,” he managed to squeeze through his constricted throat. “Well, about my dreams...” Sam cracked open his laptop. “I’m on it,” he announced, already tapping away. </p><p>Three hours later, they had nothing. Even Sam looked a bit dejected. It had seemed so easy: get the info, find the freak, gank them. “I’m calling it, guys,” he said with a yawn. “Fresh eyes in the morning. We might get an idea when our brains are rested.” Dean nodded in agreement, but Cas blinked. “I don’t sleep. You two rest up, while I make sure no creature comes near you.” His eyes crinkled up a bit in his version of a smile. “I might get a hobby to pass the time while you sleep.” Sam chuckled as he grabbed his toiletry bag. “Yeah, maybe knit us a scarf... or socks.” </p><p>The domesticity of that had Dean’s thoughts stop in their tracks. He instantly imagined Cas, sitting at some motel dinette, knitting, whilst Sam and he were doing some research. It was an appealing image somehow. He shook himself. “Yeah, or he could pick up wood whittling...” Dean quickly tossed his plaid shirt aside and took off his shoes. “Anyway. I’m hitting the hay! Night Sam, night Cas.” Sam grumbled an answer as he ducked into the bathroom. Cas, however stared straight at Dean with those deep blue eyes. “Good night, Dean.” </p><p>The image his brain had painted kept Dean awake for quite a while. Lisa’s friend, Libby, had been an avid knitter, and she often times brought her knitting stuff along when visiting, so Dean knew the sight and the accompanying sounds. Last time Dean had seen Libby, she had been knitting a Christmas sweater for her son. It was green, with white snowflakes and a big reindeer head with the customary red nose.</p><p>
  <b>“I still do not know why this poor deer has a red, clown-like nose,” Cas complained. He was sitting on Dean’s bed in the motel room, peering at a pattern. Sam chuckled from where he was looking into local lore to determine whether they were dealing with a witch or a ghost. “It’s from the song, Cas. Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer?” Cas huffed indignantly. “I have heard all renditions I could find, and not one states that the nose was round and looked like a rubber ball.” His finger tapped the pattern viciously. “Not one!” he reiterated. Dean re-assembled his favourite gun, the one with the mother-of-pearl handle, after  cleaning it and shrugged. “Then change the pattern, angel. You’re as handy with those needles as you are with your blade. You got this.” He smiled at the calculating look on Cas’ face. It was adorable. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Moments later, the soft clicking of the needles picked up, at an astonishing speed. Dean put his favourite gun on the table and picked up a lore book on herbs Sam had shoved his way with a grunt of “Monks pepper. Magic properties. Find them.” Minutes passed as they worked, the clicking of the needles a soft background-noise to the dull read. Cas gave a satisfied hum and his needles stopped. “Thank you for your input and confidence, Dean. I have figured it out and can now finish this pattern in good conscience, but later. First we have to go, or we’ll be late.” That had Dean nearly drop the book. “Late? For what?” Cas hummed as he pushed his work up the needle, paired the two needles and shoved his yarn on the tips. “If I told you, would it still be a surprise?” Flabbergasted, Dean marked his page and shoved Sam. “Oi, Sammy. Time to go.”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Get going then. I’ll see you when I see you,” Sam grumbled, not stopping his reading. “You’re not coming?” Dean wondered. That had Sam look up, and he was wearing a prime bitchface. “No I’m not coming, you jerk! Now git!” Dazed, Dean turned around to where Cas was standing. He gestured between his brother and the door, trying, but failing, to speak.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Don’t worry, Dean. Sam will be fine,” the angel said with a soft voice. “Come, let us go.”</b>
</p><p><b>Mind whirring to work out what was going on, Dean grabbed his jacket and followed Cas through the door.... straight into a diner. </b> <b> <em>‘Ohhh. Another dream then,’ </em> </b> <b>Dean realised. Cas gestured at a free booth, a bit to the back, but with an excellent view of the whole floor.</b></p><p>
  <b>“Do you want a bacon-cheeseburger, Dean?” Cas asked once they sat down. Dean tilted his head and squinted as he took in the angel. His hair looked tamed (Dean didn’t really like that), his tie was straight for once, and his buttons all done up. “You look spruced up, bud. What’s going on?” Cas ran a hand through his hair, messing it up just right. “I.. I kind of liked our last outing, Dean,” Cas softly said, his blue eyes on the formica tabletop. “I know you were sad it ended so... abruptly, so I wanted to make up for it.” Realisation hit like a bullet. “This is a date?” Dean punched out in his surprise, making Cas finally look up. “Why, yes. Did I do wrong? I did some research, and the internet said a dinner is often chosen for a second date, and with your preference for this kind of establishment...” Dean put a finger on Cas’ lips, effectively cutting off the verbal waterfall. “It’s great, Cas,” he assured the flustered angel. “Thank you.” He smiled and rubbed Cas’ cheek with his finger. Cas actually smiled that special smile; all in the eyes, just a smidgen around the mouth. “I am pleased to hear that, Dean,” he whispered, leaning closer. Finally Dean felt those soft, chapped lips on his and he moaned. This was amazing! Cas seemed to agree, because he answered and deepened the kiss. Hands wandered to his shoulders, his neck, pulling him closer...</b>
</p><p>This time, Dean woke from a book dropping to the floor. “Sorry,” came Sam’s soft whisper. “You looked so peaceful, I decided to just find the info on that herb myself.” Rubbing his eyes, and biting back an angry snarl, Dean sighed. “Where’s Cas?” he asked, looking around the room for his... the angel. “I don’t know.” Sam answered, already leafing through the book. “He wasn’t here when I woke up.” On one hand, Dean was relieved, he would have trouble looking Cas in the eye, but on the other hand.... Dean would like to see those blue eyes light up in greeting, just for him. He was royally screwed.</p><p>Later that day, Sam concocted a potion that should show him if Dean’s dreams were influenced by an Alp, which Dean sincerely doubted. They weren’t steamy, hot sex dreams (despite Sam thinking so, because Dean had a raging hard-on that morning). They were just hints of normalcy in his crazy world. A date with Cas, Cas being all domestic and surprising him with a second date. The only thing that was weird, for now, was that there was a timeline to the dreams. Still Dean downed the stuff with a shudder. (It didn’t even taste that bad, but he did have a reputation to uphold.) The next morning he couldn’t even remember his dreams, only that they’d been pleasant, but Cas was very much missing and they were no dates in them. Dean was actually slightly disappointed.</p><p>Over the next few months, dreams were mostly pleasant, except for an occasional memory-triggered nightmare about stuff going on, but actual Hell stayed absent. Every now and then, Dean would dream of a date with Cas, and they even got to a point where they kissed in every one. He hoped Cas couldn’t read his mind after those dreams, because the resulting morning wood situation had Dean using the shower for a prolonged time, and the ‘special-Dean-time’ fantasies were properly Cas-filled. </p><p>
  
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>In dream-time, he and Cas had been to the movies, the beach, stargazing on Baby’s hood, even to a fancy restaurant, while in real-life, Cas was mostly off on some Heavenly quest or something. After a while, the date-dreams were pretty much a set thing. About once a week, maybe twice a week, Dean and Cas would be on a date. Only in Dean’s mind, but still, Dean almost looked forward to going to bed at times. Sam kept researching, and trying out options, amulets and whatnot, but Dean wasn’t very upset they didn’t work. What upset him, was that Real-Life Cas was being... off. Secretive almost...</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He knew he had to stop it. He was so well aware of that, but... he couldn’t. Not anymore, and if he was being brutally honest with himself, he doubted he ever could have. “Cas, Honeybee, what’s wrong?” Cas closed his eyes. The Dreamscape Dean had made this time, was Bobby Singer’s scrap yard, but a remote, rarely visited spot where the carcasses of old vehicles and household equipment were bordering a small creek and had gotten overgrown with Vitus Vulpina, Daphne Cneorum and even a few Celastrus Scandens. Or as Sam might call them; Riverbank grape, Rose Daphne and American bittersweet. Dean would call them tangly, tripwire weeds. Their blossoms and young fruit indicated Dean placed the dream in late summertime. “Nothing is wrong, Dean. I just never would have thought this beautiful spot could be so close to Mr. Singer’s scraps.” Oh father. He was getting better and better at deceiving, and he hated it. The clear, unashamed laughter Dean let free, soured his stomach more. In his dreams, the green-eyed Hunter was never very shy anymore. He felt free to be himself here, and it was a complete unsolicited side-effect of Cas’ meddling with his brain.</p>
<p>It had started as a way to communicate his whereabouts in the most covert means possible, then it became a way to ease the Hell-based nightmares from Dean’s mind and not be obvious about it. Cas had inadvertently caught Dean’s longing thoughts about taking him on a date, even a ‘sappy’ one, whilst checking up on him.  Cas decided that this might just be the way to get to Dean’s repressed Hell-memories and lock them away, or maybe dull them a bit. Make them less taxing for Dean. To his surprise, Cas had immensely enjoyed himself with the ensuing ‘date’. He even liked the idea of ‘eating’ what Dean had ‘prepared’. Of course the illusions left no taste and no real crumbs, but it was nice to pretend to be human enough to eat with gusto.</p>
<p>When he’d entered the dream, Cas had been cautious, on his guard, because in a Hunter’s dream, anything might happen, but as the dream developed (aided by Cas here and there) he became aware this was actually a very nice, relaxed dream, and he let go a bit. Got comfortable after hearing Dean’s thoughts about his ‘bulky coat’, by taking off said coat and the jacket Jimmy had clad this body in before allowing Cas entrance. He could feel the green eyes taking him in, gaze sliding over his vessel like a lover’s touch. When Dean’s thoughts entered his mind, he could hear the awe and longing in them. <em> ‘Holy shit! He never takes off so many layers! It’s nearly a striptease!  Not that I mind…’ </em></p>
<p>A warm feeling had nestled itself around Cas’ heart and slithered to his gut. He found himself thinking about showing Dean more of himself and simultaneously regretted not being able to show Dean his wings. All that got topped by the urge to put his lips on Dean’s. He cleared his throat softly and asked Dean if he required assistance, just to ignore that weird feeling. Cas decided to just enjoy the dream and try and figure out all those confusing thoughts later, and then Dean had wanted to kiss him. It surprised him, but the idea had struck a chord in Cas, making him want it so badly by the second date. All bets were off ever since. They dated once or twice a week, and Cas couldn’t stop if his life depended on it. The first kiss was almost an accident, but Dean’s taste was close to addictive, and Cas wanted to taste it as often as he could.</p>
<p>He was wary of spending too much time with the Winchesters, because he knew something was off with Sam ever since he’d pulled him out of Hell. Because he was scared to reveal too much about his secret ally, Cas couldn’t stay away fully. Not now, not since he’d started walking Dean’s dreams. Crowley chided him repeatedly, taunting him about smelling ‘the Winchester stench’ all over Cas, but Cas could not care less. He knew Dean and Sam would not agree on working with the King of Hell, but what other option did he have? He was in too deep now, after more than a year of this.</p>
<p>“Feathers, are you even paying attention to me?” Rolling his eyes magnificently, Cas turned towards the demon. “Yes, Crowley, I heard you perfectly. Samuel and Sam managed to get us the Alpha-boogeyman. Great. Could you contain your ire this time? I know they try your patience, but you’re killing Alphas quicker than the Campbells can get them. That does seem counterproductive.” The demon narrowed his eyes at Cas. “Snarky much, angel?” he sneered with an extra squint. Cas didn’t reply. It had been almost a week and a half since he’d last walked in Dean’s dreams, and he was getting restless. “I just feel you’re not helping if you continue to kill our sources of information before they divulge said information,” Cas replied stonily. “I need the soul-power, even if it’s only from monster souls.” An unease settled in his mind, but he ignored it. </p>
<p><em> ‘Cas, buddy, love, I miss you. I wish you weren’t so caught up in all of Heaven’s shenanigans. I haven’t even dreamt of us in over a week.’ </em>The prayer was soft and more of a passionate thought than an actual prayer, but the profound bond Cas had with Dean, made it come through clear as a bell. Cas sighed. “I have to go before I am missed,” he casually stated to Crowley. “Do keep this one alive long enough to actually get what we need.” Without waiting for a reply, Cas turned and flew off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean shot up, his arms outstretched, his cheeks wet. From the other bed, Sam gave a sympathetic sigh. “Another?” he asked softly. Dean just gave a dry sob as answer. It had been a week since Cas had done it. Since he’d just walked into that reservoir, arms spread, just walking right to his death. Every night since, Dean had seen him do it again. Every dream was the same. It was exhausting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day had been long, the hunt barely productive and after days on end of barely sleeping, Dean had nothing left to give. As soon as Sammy started snoring, he dropped to his knees. “Cas...” His voice broke on that single syllable. “Cas, please... I need you. I.. I miss you. I miss us. Please don’t be dead.” Tears dripped unheeded on the blanket as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. “I miss you. I miss our dream dates. I know you don’t know what I’m talking about, but believe me, it was great. Cas... please be ok.” He sighed tremulously and rose. The crying had worn him down even further. Maybe tonight he would sleep without that nightmare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“Hello.” Dean snapped his head around. There, a slightly bemused expression on his face, stood Cas. He wasn’t wearing his trenchcoat, but that was logical. Dean had that in the trunk of the clunker of the week. Instead, Cas sported a dark blue, knitted zip-up pullover. Dean felt all the worries in the world dissipate as he saw his angel, all spruced up, and completely fine. He barely noticed he was moving. One moment he was staring at Cas, the next he was hugging him tight, his nose buried in the crook of that slender neck. “God, I missed you!”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Cas’ arms slowly drew up, hugging back tentatively, but Dean didn’t care, he just clung on, then pulled back enough to capture those delicious lips with a soft keen. Cas huffed in surprise, but soon he melted into the kiss like it was something he did daily. “I missed you, you damn fool!” Dean growled against Cas’ mouth, before lightly dancing his tongue over the seam of it. Cas made a soft noise, but opened up. Their tongues danced, and Dean was overwhelmed with feelings. This was where he belonged. In the arms of his angel. He grabbed Cas’ face with two hands and, suddenly desperate, kissed him harder. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye, but he paid it no mind. At last Cas was here again, and not going ‘poof’ in a weird, black swirl in the water.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>After a while Cas pushed off, his deep-blue eyes kind, but sorrowful. “I’m sorry,” he started, but Dean didn’t want to hear any of it. “C’mon, angel. Where are we going on this date?” Cas blinked in confusion. “Er...” he started, but Dean was bubbling with joy and energy. “Let’s go to a fair! You said you’ve never been to one!” He pulled the angel along, nearly skipping in delight as he could hear the merry-go-round music in the distance. Cas just jogged behind, a small smile on his face. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“What?” Dean asked, a smile of his own tugging at his mouth. “You look happy,” Cas said in a soft voice. Dean let out an elated laugh. “I am! I thought I’d lost you, but here you are!” He pulled and Cas tumbled into his arms, ripe for kissing. Cas softly groaned as Dean kissed him deeply. “Hm, angel,” he hummed between kisses. “Keep making those noises, and we might not get to the fair.” Cas’ hands travelled up his shoulders into his hair, fingers clenching lightly. “I’m not averse to that,” he ground out in that gravelly voice, and boy did it rev Dean’s engine. The kisses got deeper, filthier, and Dean couldn’t stop if he wanted to.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>He bucked his hips instinctively, rubbing his crotch against the obvious bulge in Cas’ dove grey slacks. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Cas gasped and threw his head back. “Oh!” he punched out. “Oh my! This... uhn! This is... exquisite!” Dean had to agree. He hadn’t been this turned on by a guy since he met ‘the Chief’ a few years back, and the leather clad Dom had to use a lot more tricks to get Dean this horny. “Yeah,” he rumbled, repeating the movement, gloating as Cas groaned like a porn-star. “You like that, huh angel?” Cas was panting, his blue eyes dark and hooded as he looked at Dean through his lashes. “Yessss.”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Dean moaned too, when he felt Cas copy his move, rubbing their crotches together in a sensuous grind. “Uhn! So... so good!” Cas ground out, quickening his pace. Dean could only agree, when his vision started to white out at the edges. They dry-humped like teens at prom, moaning and gasping. Dean could feel the pressure build in his belly. “Uuhhhnnn!” he moaned. “I’m close.. so close! Hnnnn!” Cas locked up, pushing his pelvis so tight against Dean’s, Dean could feel him pulsing out his release. “Holy shit!” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut, as the wave built to near cresting.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“As much as I want to be glad this isn’t yet another nightmare, I did not need your happy-noises to wake me up!” Sam’s voice was as effective as a bucket of ice-water. Dean’s eyes flew open, the wave dissipating, leaving a hollow, gnawing need behind. Cas looked sated, sexed out, but also very confused. “Damnit, Sam! Not the time, bitch” Dean yelled at the sky. The sky chuckled in Sam’s voice. “Just wake up and take care of it, jerk.” The dream started to fade already. All Dean could see now, was Cas’ confused and pleading face. “I’m gonna find you, angel! I promise!” Dean yelled out, but Cas slowly faded too, the last thing to go: his beautiful eyes.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a frustrated groan, Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Damnit, Sam! You interrupting Moose!” he snapped. His brother threw him a magnificent bitchface, ran a hand through his locks, making them fall back flawlessly, and scoffed. “Be glad I woke you up,” he grumbled. “That sounded one thrust away from a wet dream.” Cussing under his breath, because the damned sasquatch was right and wasn’t that embarrassing, Dean threw his legs over the edge. “What time is it anyway?” he demanded to know. “A little after nine,” came the prompt answer. “You slept in.” Dean huffed in surprise.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Daphne woke him up with a soft kiss, but Emanuel turned away. “It’s ok,” Daphne reminded him. “Asexual people don’t always like stuff like that.” He was grateful for her understanding and compassion, but if he was ace, why on the great green Earth did he dream like that? Like going to the fair with a gorgeous, green-eyed man was all in a day's work. And getting kissed by him, deep lust-filled kisses, with tongue and everything, was a natural occurrence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt his dick stir and quickly sat up, wincing at the wet spot. He’d ejaculated. From a dream. Admittedly, a very hot dream, but still, just a dream. Emanuel watched Daphne leave. Something was weird about this dream. It felt almost too real. And if that was the case... he’d just gotten off in a very satisfying way, by rubbing crotches with a guy! He was totally indifferent to sexual orientation, but he’d never would have said he wanted to bed men. But this specific specimen, wow. There was something about those forest-green eyes that pulled at his core.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he was washing the bedding, Emanuel sighed. The dream kept haunting him, especially the way that gruff voice kept calling him angel. Like it was more than a pet-name, like he was a genuine celestial being. And the thing that haunted him most, were the green-eyed man’s parting words. “I’m gonna find you, angel! I promise!” It was like the man knew Emanuel felt lost 97% of the time. Like he didn’t belong. Emanuel dared to hope a little bit that this was one of his weird powers, and the green-eyed man would one day show up and take him away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re exceptionally quiet today, Emanuel,” Daphne remarked at dinner that night. “What’s wrong?” Emanuel played with his sweet peas. Not that he knew them to be sweet peas by taste. Everything tasted roughly the same to him. “I... I’m finding it difficult to sleep. I seem to need less and less each week.” It wasn’t a lie. That was bothering him. Just not right now. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to sleep again, just to see if the green eyed man returned to his dreams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, honey. That is worrying. We might have to see a doctor about that,” Daphne cooed, munching on her chicken. The pet-name sounded off, even though his wife was sincere. Emanuel pushed off from the table. “I am sorry. I don’t think I can eat anymore. I...I’m going outside. I need to clear my head.” He could feel those grey eyes follow him until the screen door slammed. He made his way to the hammock in the backyard and lay down in it. He saw his breath fog up, but didn’t feel the cold, well, he did, but it didn’t bother him. He sighed and stared up to the stars. Maybe the green-eyed man was too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“Are you coming, buddy?” Emanuel sat up, his back a bit colder than he would have expected from lying in a hammock. The surface beneath him was also a lot harder. He glanced down, finding he wasn’t in a hammock, but on the hood of a beautiful, black car. “Angel?” It was the gruff voice of his green-eyed man. “Hello again,” Emanuel smiled. The green-eyed man smiled back. “Hey there, bud,” he replied and pulled Emanuel down for a kiss to his lips. “Hmmmnnn.” The groan the green-eyed man gave was delicious, and Emanuel felt a carnal desire like he never had before, not even for his wife. He felt indebted to her, of course, she had taken him in while he knew nothing, was nothing, and owned nothing. “I love kissing you, angel.” Emanuel hummed in agreement, before acting on his own and pulling those plush lips to his again. He pulled more until the man ended up flush against him. “Oh!” the man gasped, a little surprised. “Hmnhm! You’re strong, bud. I like. Makes me all tingly when you take control like this.”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>The soft, needy undertone wasn’t missed and Emanuel felt his cock swell at the idea of controlling this man. He seemed like the kind of guy who rarely gave up control, so making him do whatever Emanuel wanted would be all the more sweet. “Hm,” Emanuel growled. “It does?” Eager nodding and soft kisses to his jaw. “Then do what you did last time. Make me come.” Emanuel demanded, pushing his groin up.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>The man trembled in his arms. “Shit,” he muttered. “I do get all tingly.” Then he lifted his head and looked right into Emanuel’s eyes. “Yes, sir! How shall I do that, sir?” It was said with a cocky grin, but Emanuel gulped. That was.... strangely arousing. “Hmmm. You’re doing great already, dear pet.” He internally cringed at the endearment, but he didn’t know the green-eyed man’s name. It seemed, the man didn’t mind. He went wide-eyed and trembled again. “Th.. Thank you, sir.” A lovely blush highlighted cute freckles dusted all over the man’s cheekbones and nose. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“Do.. do you want a hand job, or frottage, sir, or shall... shall I... blow you?” Each option had Emanuel tent his slacks more, but the idea of having those plush lips wrapped around his cock, made him distinctly light-headed. “Hmm, pet, you give such delicious options...” he cooed. “But I’m particularly inclined to have your mouth on me.” He pushed down on those broad shoulders to get the point through. The gesture was straight out of a porn, but Emanuel didn’t care. It was a dream. He could be promiscuous in his own mind.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>The man, his pet, gasped, then slid down to his knees, yielding easily to the pressure. “Yes, sir,” he ground out with a rough voice. His hands opened Emanuel’s belt and slacks and he was panting, the warm puffs of air teasingly tickling Emanuel’s cock. “Don’t make me wait, pet.” Emanuel grumbled, but without venom. His pet swallowed. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.” Those deft hands slid up Emanuel’s thighs and around his backside, the calluses giving a nice scrape. Then they cupped his ass and Emanuel bucked. “Uhnnn! Yesss! So good, pet, so good.” He glanced down, seeing those green eyes trained on him hungrily. “Now, do it. Make me come again,” he ordered.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>His pet moaned, then mouthed at the hard line inside his boxers. Lust pinged up and down Emanuel’s spine to pool in his gut. “Hnnn!” he groaned, as a spurt of precome soaked the cotton. His pet whined. “Oh God! I want that! Can I have it, sir? Please?” Emanuel’s gut tightened deliciously at the begging. “Yes pet, go ahead,” he encouraged. Eager hands stripped his lower half bare, and before Emanuel could shiver at the cold against his more sensitive parts, warm wetness engulfed him. “Oh!” he gasped, his hands seeking support on his pet’s head. “Oh my... so... so good! Please, pet, continue!” His pet moaned around his flesh and it vibrated right to that warm pool of lust in his stomach.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>His pet sucked him down, licking, slurping, eager, and Emanuel couldn’t believe his mind could dream up such an amazing scenario. The man looked up with his big, green eyes, eager to please, his lips stretched around Emanuel’s girth. “Uhnnn, pet... don’t stop.. I... I’m close...” Emanuel ground out, his hips bucking by themselves. His pet groaned, green eyes rolling up in delight. He grabbed Emanuel’s hands and pinned them to his head, encouraging Emanuel to buck, to actively thrust into his mouth. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Emanuel moaned and shivered at the amount of trust his pet showed. “Oh my word... pet... I... I’ll be worthy of your trust!” Emanuel called out and started fuck his pet’s mouth in earnest. His pet moaned and swallowed around him until his eyes glossed over and he went quiet. A dreamy look slid onto the freckled face and he had never looked more beautiful. His jaw went slack so all he seemed to be now was a hole to fuck, and he looked so happy to be just that. It was enough for Emanuel. With one last, deep thrust, he spilled into that eager mouth, come and spit pooling around his dick and slipping down the chin and neck of his pet, as his pet wasn’t swallowing. His cock twitched once, twice, squirting out his last. Then he dropped to his knees, hugging the prone man.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“Pet, you were so amazing. So good for me,” he cooed softly. He pulled back a little to watch the green-eyed man. His gaze was still dreamy and the mixture of come and spit glistened in the starlight. A big, dark stain was visible on the man’s jeans. He had come too, but without a sound, just like that. “Oh, pet. Look at you!” Emanuel felt shame. He had debauched this gorgeous man and he had loved every second of it. “I will clean you up, my darling. Come here.” He took off his knitted zip-up and used it to clean off the spills. “You’re such a good man. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Green eyes blinked a few times, sentience bleeding back in. “Angel, no... don’t feel bad. I loved it.” A wry smirk pulled up a corner of that plump mouth. “Heh... I think I might be a bit of a submissive.” Smart, knowing eyes glanced at Emanuel. “Guess you were always the dom, huh? Shouldn’t have surprised me. Commanding is in your blood, so to speak.” Emanuel tilted his head at that. “Excuse me?” he asked, but there was a hand on his shoulder, and it didn’t belong to his pet. He frowned. “Wake up, dear. I’m going to hospital. My shift starts in ten.” Regretful, Emanuel looked at his pet. “I... I love you...” he whispered, before waking up.</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean whined as he woke. What in the Hell was that dream? Except strangely arousing, and wasn’t that a doozy? He had let Cas just command him and push him around, and he had loved it. He’d melted at the way his angel had called him ‘pet’ like it was his given name. He had felt strangely disconnected and safe while Cas was literally fucking his mouth, soiling him with come and his own spit, and he’d just let it happen. But the drifting, warm fuzzy feeling as Cas just used him... it had been bliss. He’d come when he’d felt Cas spill down his throat, and he’d just let it happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the soft and caring way Cas was right after... a shrill contrast, but so good. Dean felt valid, worthy and... loved. Dean didn’t know who that reedy, female voice belonged to, but she’d called Cas ‘dear’ and that soured the great feeling considerably. But Cas had said he loved Dean... Dean felt torn, and grouchy and, even though his bedding was properly soiled, unsatisfied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that sounded like a good dream!” Sam cheerfully chimed from the dinette. Dean growled and grabbed his stuff to get into the shower. “That’s not a happy sound though. Excuse me for being here,” Sam groused and turned back to his research. Dean was grateful the sasquatch didn’t watch him as he got up, because he was sporting some impressive morning wood, even though, according to the bedside clock, it was only just before midnight. He dashed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. Images from the dream haunted him and he just knew that he would have to deal with it, before facing life again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>oooOooo</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emanuel, dear, I hope you will go to bed now.” Emanuel cringed as he put the blanket and his slacks in the hamper. Daphne was standing behind him, her scrubs on and her jacket over her arm. “I know you don’t mind the cold, but I was afraid you’d sleep there all night, and despite the blanket I already put over you, it was too cold out there.” Emanuel smiled. Daphne was a good woman. He did love her, but nothing as fierce and all-encompassing as he felt when he looked into those green eyes. It was stupid. Loving a dream character. He sighed. “Thank you, dear. You are so thoughtful. Have a good shift.” He pressed his lips to her soft cheek, missing the scratch of stubble as he did. “Night dear,” Daphne replied and turned away, leaving Emanuel to ponder if she had seen the stains on the blanket when she woke him up, or did the darkness hide them? Eventually he gave up and sat the rest of the night, trying to not remember the dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>oooOooo</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a few months, but Dean kept dreaming of Cas, and it gave him courage to believe the angel was still out there. After the steaming hot sex dream, Cas seemed careful. He never explained why, and Dean never asked, but he had the strangest inkling that reedy voice had something to do with it. But Dean was just glad to be dating again, well, dream-dating. Because of Cas’ reluctance, they didn’t go that far again, but Dean still woke up with very persistent boners. Sam merely raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, disaster struck. Sam was finally cracking under the hallucinations of Lucifer, and he was slowly, but surely, running his sasquatch ass to the ground. They hit rock-bottom as Dean had to let Sam stay in that locked ward. Sam wasn’t sleeping, and he was on his last leg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean cried in dream-Cas’ arms that night. He never told Cas why, but his angel understood that he was at the end of his tether and just let him. When Dean woke, his cheeks and pillow were soaked. “Fuck. I’m losing it too, Sammy. Without you, Bobby, or Cas... I’m nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he found that card, and Mackey called back, his hope shimmered. Mackey had made sure this Emanuel seemed legit, so Dean turned Baby towards Colorado. He knew he needed Sam, or go down himself. On his way there, he rehearsed what cock-and-bull semi truth he would feed this Emanuel. Honestly, Dean was about ready to put Ruby’s knife to the guy’s throat, just to get Sammy back. He pulled up and took a deep breath, scanning the house. It looked like a standard, quiet suburban house, but Dean knew how deceiving that could be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some random guy opened the door at Dean’s knock claiming to be Emanuel. Dean steeled himself. Here he went. After taking a step or two back, Emanuel seemed to like to be in people’s personal space, he started his speech, but something caught his eye. A woman was tied up to a chair, and not in the sexy way. When he turned to the guy, he knew this was not Emanuel. To make things worse, the guy’s eyes flicked black and he grinned evilly, before shoving Dean into the front door hard enough to crack the glass. He tried to reason with the hellspawn, hoping he could save the vessel on the off chance it was Emanuel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The demon taunted him that Crowley would want Emanuel more than Dean, then attacked him. With a heavy heart, Dean did what he had to; he stabbed the son of a bitch with Ruby’s knife. The demon went down, flopping as he rolled off the steps, landing at the feet of some poor schmuck that was standing there. Dean swallowed, and looked up the, somehow familiar, dove grey slacks, the blue zip-up pullover and felt his heart stutter as he recognised the unruly, dark hair. But it couldn’t be.. Cas... Cas was dead, right? Surely when the guy would look up he would have brown eyes and a hook nose...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy slowly looked up. Shocked, overly familiar blue eyes lined with charcoal coloured lashes took Dean in. “What was that?” the gravelly voice Dean had missed so much in waking life, asked him. Then those blue eyes hit his face and the eyes widened infinitesimally, the pink lips parted. For a second, Dean felt Cas recognised him, but then the face became a polite, questioning mask again. Dean closed his eyes to hide the pain. “I think he tied up Daphne...” he managed after a bit. Cas blanched, stepped over the dead demon and pushed past Dean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside, Cas untied Daphne with such care, it was like Dean got a knife plunged in his heart while he watched. Then she called him ‘Emanuel’ in that soft, reedy voice, touching his cheek with tender love, and that knife twisted around. Cas turned to him, reaching out his hand. “I am Emanuel. Thank you for protecting my wife...” Dean blanked out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘His</span>
  </em>
  <span> wife? </span>
  <em>
    <span>She is his fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>wife?</span>
  <em>
    <span>’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Somehow, Dean got through the introductions, even though Cas acted like he didn’t know jack-shit about demons or anything. Feeling severely unbalanced, Dean told Cas about Sam, another thing he should have known, and slowly accepted that whatever those chompers did to Cas, it had erased his memory, or blocked it. They agreed to go visit Sam, to see what ‘Emanuel’ could do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trip was Hell. Plain and simple. Dean thought he had seen every torture there was, when he was down there, but this... this was worse. Way worse. Somehow they got to discuss Cas himself, and to hear him question his name, like it was a stranger’s, it slowly killed Dean. He wanted to cry out, slam his hands on the steering wheel, shake Cas, anything but blandly keep on driving like it wasn’t Cas next to him. Yet that was what he did because it seemed Cas had built a mental wall of his own, and what right did Dean have to tear it down?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emanuel had thought he couldn’t be more shocked than when he saw the true face of the man that got killed on his front porch, but when he looked up to the killer, his brain froze. It was the green eyed man from his dreams! The one he had comforted only a few nights ago, when he was sobbing like his heart was torn asunder. From the shocked look on the dream-man’s face, something was off. He hadn’t expected Emanuel, that was for sure. “I think he tied up Daphne...” that gruff voice said, and it spurred Emanuel into action. Daphne was a sweet and kind hearted woman. She deserved to be untied as fast as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the while, he could sense the green eyed man looking at him. His gaze shifted between baffled and hurt beyond compare. Daphne worried about Emanuel, of course she did, but he had no time for her coddling. He pulled her along to face the man who rescued them, and introduced himself, holding out his hand. “Dean... my name is Dean,” came the hesitant answer. The hurt and longing was so clear, it was like Dean was screaming them in his face. The feel of that callused hand in his, dried up Emanuel’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean spoke Emanuel’s name like it wasn’t what he wanted to call him. Emanuel remembered Dean’s gruff voice calling him ‘angel’ and he missed it. Oddly enough, in his dreams Dean never called him by his name either. Emanuel had to concentrate to keep his mind on the conversation. Demons? Demons walked the Earth? And Dean seemed shocked, disbelieving, that he, Emanuel, didn’t know about that. There was something so off. Then Dean came to why he was there, and it nearly broke Emanuel’s heart. His brother... it seemed the guy was so much more than that. Dean was keeping up a good facade, but Emanuel felt the desperation and pain in Dean’s soul, as if it were his own, which was a new and unsettling experience.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet Emanuel agreed to come with Dean, to see if he could help his brother, Sam. In the car, which Emanuel secretly loved, there was an uncomfortable silence, but also some degree of familiarity Emanuel couldn’t explain away. He decided to breach the subject of Sam’s illness. Five minutes later, he wished he hadn’t. Dean was angry, betrayed and hurt in a profound way that, in some twisted way, hurt Emanuel too. And all this because of ‘Cas’, the person to betray Sam and Dean and break one’s head and the other’s heart. He knew he shouldn’t be angry or hurt, but he was. Any further talk about this ‘friend’ bled out quickly. And it hurt both of them. So Emanuel kept silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The looks Dean kept throwing him were disconcerting too, as if he would either explode (and that seemed literal, not metaphorical) or hurt him. Emanuel would never do either! Then why did he feel like he had done so? Including the literal exploding? And why did Emanuel imagine a much wetter sound like ‘splooch’ instead of ‘kaboom’? The human mind would never cease to amaze him. Dean threw him another, wary, look. It was as if the man tried to figure out if Emanuel was a fraud or real, but not about his ‘powers’. No, Dean had taken that at face value. It was as if he knew Emanuel from before... No! If that was the case, then those dreams could be... memories? They seemed too real to be memories. Besides, then why would Dean act as if Emanuel was a stranger? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall I drive?” It was an innocent enough question. Dean was obviously nodding behind the wheel, even if his eyes stayed open and his head didn’t bob. Dean scoffed. “You know how to then?” There it was again. Like Dean knew he couldn’t. True, he never had in those months he could recall, but maybe he could... “I’ve watched you. I think I can handle it.” This scoff was derogatory. “Sorry pal. No-one ever drives me around, unless in dire straights. Not even Sam, not even....” his voice tapered sadly, then rallied. “... not even a healer like you. I’m sure you think you can drive from watching me. Damnit, I’m sure you could, knowing...” There he went again. “... you’re some kind of miracle guy. But I’m getting us a motel, bud. You must be sleepy too, huh? Never saw you nod or drift off...” Again he said it like he knew Emanuel rarely slept these days. Emanuel didn’t answer, his throat constricted for some reason. Dean sighed and pulled into the next motel parking-lot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clerk at the desk was rude and strangely convinced Dean and Emanuel would like a single king bed. Dean just sighed, shook his head and slapped the counter. “Two queens, pal. Hurry up.” The look the clerk gave them was weird. Dean ignored it and grabbed the keys. “C’mon, buddy. I need my four hours.” Emanuel blinked. “Four... Dean that is an insufficient amount of sleep for a human being.” Dean grumbled. “I know, angel. I know. Just lemme crash, and I’ll wake when I do. Deal?” The way that Dean so casually slipped in ‘angel’ had Emanuel’s heart stutter. It wasn’t intentional, it wasn’t a trick. It was like Dean was used to calling him angel, and it bothered Emanuel quite a bit. Dean, several feet away, looked back at him. “Dude! C’mon! I need a bed!” Emanuel jumped and followed him, his eyes carefully not watching the bowed legs or the buttocks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was lying on his stomach, hand under his pillow. To Emanuel it seemed an uncomfortable position, but Dean’s soft snores told him the man was out like a light. Emanuel sighed and settled on the other bed, his eyes glued to the sleeping form of his companion. It felt good, familiar even. As if Emanuel was used to sitting on a bed, watching the other man sleep. A soft smile graced his lips when Dean sighed and snuggled down more. He looked younger and more carefree. Emanuel’s heart warmed, making his body tingle. Dean’s nose twitched and his eyes moved behind their lids. He was dreaming. Emanuel closed his own eyes and tried to imagine what Dean  would be dreaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“I miss you...” Dean’s voice was infinitely sad, and Emanuel wanted to reach out and hug him tight. “Dean...” The sandy haired head snapped around. “You’re here!” It was unexpectedly enthusiastic, but the way Dean suddenly tugged him close and pressed his plush lips to Emanuel’s, cut any comments short. Emanuel softened and returned pressure. “Hmmmnnnn. Oh, I missed this.” Dean groaned before licking his way into Emanuel’s mouth. He couldn’t agree more. The dreams after the one Daphne cut short had all been without anything close to kissing, and even though Emanuel had kept it so himself, he’d missed it desperately. “Me too... Dean...” Dean moaned loudly. “Please... say my name again... I missed you saying it.” </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>How could he deny his green-eyed love such a simple request? “Dean. Dean... Dean, Dean... kiss me more, Dean,” he demanded, lust deep-frying his higher brain-functions. “Oh yeeesss. Yes, sir!” Dean replied eagerly, grabbing Emanuel’s face with two hands and kissing him deeply. He knew it was wrong, and just a dream, but after spending half the day cooped up with Dean in a car, smelling his woodsy scent, feeling the warmth he radiated, Emanuel wanted this. He wanted every moan, every sigh, he wanted the whimpers, he wanted the slick feeling of those plush lips, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted!</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>So, he took. He ravished the warm mouth on his, he clutched those muscular arms with his hands, he rutted over the sturdy, bowed leg between his thighs. “Ohhhmmmm.” The deep moan vibrated against Emanuel. “Dean... I want to see you.. want to taste you. Take off your shirt.” An eyebrow quirked up. “You going all dominant on me again, bud?” Strong hands slid under a tan coat Emanuel didn’t remember putting on. “Hm. Would you be averse to that?” Deep down Emanuel hoped Dean wasn’t. </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Tanned fingers fiddled with a deep blue tie. Strange. Emanuel never wore ties. “No...” Dean mumbled to the buttons of the white dress shirt. “I told you. It seems I’m kinda submissive. Means I frikken like being pushed around by you.” Emanuel’s throat dried up. “You... you said something like that last time... last time we...” His thoughts frizzed when Dean looked up with those big, green eyes. He was taller than Emanuel, but he still managed to look smaller. “Last time?” Dean placed two hands on Emanuel’s chest, his eyes glued to Emanuel’s. “You mean when you fucked my mouth? Geez... I still use that as material to get off on.” Trying desperately to moisten his throat, Emanuel gulped three times. “Yes,” he admitted. “You enjoyed that? I felt so bad about it...”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>A strong finger lifted his chin up. “Don’t, angel.” Dean was actually smiling softly. “You did nothing wrong. I could have stopped you at any given moment. I’m sure if I had told you, or given any sign I didn’t want it, you would have stopped.” Emanuel nodded. “Of course. Dean, I value your safety beyond anything else.” Dean smirked and softly kissed his lips. “Good. Same, to be honest, angel. Don’t you dare die on me again. Twice is more than enough!” While Dean slotted their mouths together again, Emanuel’s heart stopped, then started thumping. What was Dean saying? Why would he, Emanuel, dream this?</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Dean stopped kissing. Cas had strangely frozen in his arms and wasn’t participating anymore. He looked up at those blue eyes and saw confusion and fear in them. “What’s wrong?” No answer. Even though he knew he was dreaming, Dean worried. This was Cas and even though in real life, he thought he was a faith healer that called himself Emanuel, because it was a cute name on bouncybabynames.com, in this dream he was wearing his usual angel outfit. So Dean surmised this was his angel, come back. If he was honest with himself, the moment he saw the familiar coat and tie, Dean had gotten hard as a rock. With this Cas, he could work.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>“Buddy, come on. What’s wrong?” Cas blinked sadly. “I did that? I... I left you?” Not willing to let this weird mood ruin a dream that had been well on its way to getting hot and heavy, Dean sighed. “It happened. Don’t worry about it. You’re back, and here to stay, right?”  Cas nodded. “Good... what would you want me to do, angel? Or more accurately, what do you wanna do to me?” Cas groaned and grabbed him by his jacket, pushing him against the wall. Dean shuddered with delight. “What I want to do to you, Dean Winchester? I want to ravish you. I want to turn you into a shivering, incoherent mess of a man, and then, I want to fuck you.” Dean gasped, lust turning him to mush. “Oh shit... Yes! Yes! Please... please!” he begged. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Cas growled and latched onto his neck, biting, sucking and laving. “Hm,” Cas purred after a while, when he’d turned Dean into a whimpering, wanting pile of hormones. “You taste so good, pet.” Dean shivered. That term... it could be so demeaning, but from Cas’ mouth it sounded like the cutest endearment. “Thank you, sir,” Dean panted, trying to get his brain online again. “You do not mind that I call you pet?” Cas demanded to know. Dean fervently shook his head. “No, sir. Not at all. I... I kinda like it.” A memory popped up, of the Chief demanding his safe-word. “S...sir... shall... shall we set a rule?” Cas stopped licking Dean’s clavicle long enough to look him in the eye. “Rule?” he queried. “Yes, a rule,” Dean confirmed. “We both pick a word, the most unsexy one you can imagine, and when you say that word, all bets are off. Instant halt.”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Stepping back, Cas pondered that. “It seems a prudent thing to do. Smart pet.” Dean felt as if his insides liquified and started glowing. “What would your word be?” Cas wanted to know. “Moose.” It came out instantly. It never failed to remind Dean of Sam and Crowley simultaneously. Cas raised his brows, but nodded in agreement. “Very well. Mine will be minister. I do not like how the teachings are given by most of them.” Dean smirked. Yeah that would kill his lust too. Cas pressed his nose against Dean's neck again. “So, shall we go on?” Dean whimpered. He could feel Cas’ smirk on his neck. “That’s not an answer, Dean. Use your words, pet.” His breath was coming out in tiny bursts, but Dean made his voice work. “Yes please, sir.” Cas almost purred against his skin. “Hmmmm. Good pet.”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Caught between a solid wall and his solid angel, Dean felt he was drifting away again. “Hmmm, Dean!” Cas rumbled against his neck, after biting gently down until there was a tiny flash of pain, which spiralled down to Dean’s cock, making it throb. “Get your shirts off, pet. You’re wearing too many layers.” A bratty remark about Cas’ own layers fought to get out, but Dean kept it in, merely bowing his head. “Yes, sir.” Cas gasped, but then stepped back, so Dean could strip. Those blue eyes followed every move, drinking in every inch of skin. “Hmnn... pet... you do listen so beautifully.” Dean nearly sobbed at the praise. “Thank you, sir.”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>As soon as the last shirt dropped, Cas was on Dean like white on rice. He kissed him deeply, filthy, with lots of tongue, then moved back to Dean’s neck, nibbling, but never really leaving a mark. When those lips slid down to his clavicle, Dean thumped his head against the wall. Would he be allowed to finish this dream? Would Cas finally fuck him? Ravish him, like he promised? Cas’ lips slid down further, his tongue flicking over one of Dean’s nipples, sending lust cascading through Dean like a waterfall. “Hnnnn! Yes!” he moaned, floaty feeling creeping back in. All he could do was feel. Feel how Cas’ mouth sucked and licked on his nipples, how Cas bit one gently, sending that jolt of pain-pleasure to Dean’s dick.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Deft hands undid his fly, and rubbed his crotch. “Oh, pet,” Cas growled in his ear. “So hard for me. So wet too. This really turns you on, doesn’t it?” Dean whimpered. “Yes, sir... please.. use me as you will. I’m yours.” The hand on his crotch tightened deliciously. “Hm. I think I will. You’re so good to me, Dean. I want this. I want my first time to be with you. I want to make you beg for me to come. Ohhh, Deaaann. Hmnnnn.” Dean could feel the hard line of Cas’ cock against his thigh as Cas rubbed on it.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>With that unfair, angelic strength, Cas turned Dean over. “Hands on the wall, pet.” Dean obeyed, his arms trembling slightly with want and anticipation. Cas roughly pulled down Dean’s jeans and boxers. “Look at those glutes. You’re so beautiful, Dean.” Cas purred in his ear, making Dean melt further, drift away deeper into that warm space of being cared for, being used. A pressure at his hole made him tense a bit, but Cas was right there. “I might not be experienced, pet, but I do know about the body. Relax. This is for you, my precious, green-eyed beauty.” </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Cas pumped his finger in and out carefully, added a second, then crooked them a bit. White-hot fire lit up and Dean gave a long, drawn out gasp. He was more turned on than he’d ever been, but also still drifting in that warm place. Cas kept up stroking his insides, rubbing that magic spot every now and then. Dean unconsciously pushed back onto those slender, teasing fingers, chasing something. Maybe that white-hot fire, maybe the blissful drifting. He didn’t know. He just let it all happen. Pressure built and built, but Dean didn’t make a sound, he just let it crest and tumbled along in the waves. He was vaguely aware of slick sounds behind him, but he didn’t care. He was floating.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>He felt Cas withdraw his fingers, and replace them with his cock. “Hmnnnn,” he moaned softly, amazed how easily Cas slid home. The sense of being filled was delicious, as was the warmth of Cas’ thighs against his ass. Dean floated and enjoyed. Cas moved, and the enjoyment grew. Vaguely Dean registered that Cas was pounding in him, he felt the slap of skin on skin, the tickle of Cas’ balls hitting his taint, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Cas was using him to chase his own release and that was fine. That was what Dean was made for. For his angel. He vaguely noticed being hard again, and smirked at the dream mojo making that possible. “Oh. Dean... Dean...” Cas ground out, his hands harshly gripping Dean’s hips, slamming him on Cas’ cock. “Dean... Dean, I... I’m going to... uhn, uuuhnn.. Uhuhuhuhh HUUUUNNNN! DEAAAANNNNN!” Cas stiffened, his hands gripping tight, definitely bruising in his angel-strength, but even that didn’t pull Dean out of his space. </b>
  <br/>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Dean? Come back to me... Dean, you’re worrying me.” That was Cas’ voice, and it was important that Dean answered him. He fought his way to the surface, surprised to find himself in a soft bed, and not on the cold floor. “Wha?” he groused, unwilling to let go of that amazing, floaty feeling. An embarrassed cough. “Ehm, you... you had a dream. And... Ehm... you... you sort of... soiled yourself?” Reality snapped into place and Dean groaned in desperation. Of course. The first wet dream in months, and Cas, who-isn’t-Cas, has to be there for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t... don’t move. I will help you get cleaned up,” Cas said with a strange hitch in his voice. Gentle hands turned Dean over, and he was forcibly reminded of the dream. He’d just rolled over for the kicking, hadn’t he? Well... for the fucking but, semantics. A warm, moist cloth gently rubbed his stomach clean, and a straw was slipped between his lips. “Drink, Dean. I think you could use the sugar,” Cas said quietly. Dean sipped, surprised to find his palette tickled by mango juice. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry... I didn’t want to...” he started, but Cas shushed him. “No. It’s ok. You’re only human, and I do not think we can control what we dream, do you?” Remembering the dream-root, Dean just sipped more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, I bought some M&amp;Ms at the vending machine down the hall. You should at least eat some.” Dean blinked. Cas had gently cleaned him up, made him drink and now was nearly force feeding him. It was like that time with ‘the Chief’. After railing into Dean so hard, Dean felt it for days, the big Dom had so sweetly taken care of Dean. They’d even cuddled and ‘Chief’ had given Dean a black business card and told Dean to call the number if he was feeling down. Of course Dean had been ok, and busy on that hunt, but he had wondered about the actions of the burly man and decided to read up on his BDSM. It had been... enlightening. Could it be that his angel knew about the dream, and the aftercare such a scene would need? Even if subconsciously?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas worried about Dean more, handing him a glass of water once his packet of mango juice was empty. “‘M okay, bud,” Dean smiled. “Don’t worry. All I’m missing is the after sex cuddles.” He said it jokingly, but Cas, with deep red cheeks, had nodded sagely and crawled behind Dean, pulling him in as the little spoon. “Relax Dean. We don’t need to be anywhere yet.” Heart stuttering, Dean settled into the spooning. Awkward as it was, he quickly drifted off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Cas was gone and Dean sighed. He should have expected no less. Being a religious nut like Emanuel, this must’ve been super wrong. Dean threw off his covers and made his way to the bathroom. The warm water soothed out the kinks in his muscles. He soaped up and started to wash himself. When he got to his hips, he hissed in pain. “OW! What the...” He looked down to find ten perfectly round bruises on his hips. Like fingerprints. How? How the Hell did bruises from a dream end up in real life? Dean started wondering again whether his brain was safe, or if someone, something was messing with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With sharp, decided moves, Dean cleaned himself further and got dressed. When he left the bathroom, he nearly dropped his stuff. Cas was sitting primly on one of the stripped beds. “I thought it prudent to get rid of the soiled bedding,” Cas said. “I have also provided breakfast.” He nodded at the dinette and Dean could now smell bacon and eggs, and maybe pancakes. He cleared his throat and prayed to the Almighty Gods of Pie that Cas didn’t see his blush. “Ehm, yeah!” Dean stammered, clearing away his stuff. “Thanks, buddy. That’ll hit the spot.” Cas smiled softly. “I do hope so. I already had some breakfast while waiting for your order.” Dean threw him a look. Cas didn’t eat, and if he ordered at the same time, their orders would come in together, even if he only ordered a club sandwich. Diner law. “Good. I’ll be quick, then we can hit the road after.” Cas smiled again and Dean wanted to kiss him. “Yes, we should get to Sam as soon as possible.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Of course it all went South, fast. Dean hadn’t wanted to break Cas’ wall, but they had to. Meg was right. And now, Cas was alone, shut in his own mind with visions of Lucifer torturing him. Well, at least Meg seemed to be fond enough of her ‘little tree-topper’ to want to hide in plain sight and become his nurse. Dean just prayed his dreams didn’t suffer from this. “Dean,” Sam softly said. “You know I don’t like it, but you’re right. In this state, Cas is better off in there with Meg watching him.” Dean just grunted and drove the blue mustang away from the hospital where he’d left his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>The door shut behind him with a resounding ‘clang’. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed, just as he’d left him. “Cas, I’m so sorry.” Dean fell on his knees next to his angel. Cas turned his head towards him and a mischievous smirk curled his pink lips. “Hello, Dean.” Dean’s head snapped up. That almost sounded normal. “Imagine this. You on your knees in front of me. That reminds me of something...” His hand shot out and grabbed Dean’s hair, pulling Dean’s head back until he could look into those blue eyes. “Just like the last time, huh Dean? When you allowed me to fuck you so hard you bruised. I know you bruised, Dean.”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Dean gulped. This wasn’t Cas. “Lemme go,” he growled. “Naaahh. You don’t want that, do you, Dean?” Cas said, and he smirked. That smirk... Dean had seen it before. Ice flooded his veins. “Lucifer...” he panted. “Hey there buddy... you figured that out pretty damn quick to be honest. Thought you’d let me play with you a lot more before getting the message.” Lucifer-Cas pulled harder on Dean’s hair. “I read my baby brother’s mind, Dean. He only dominated you because you wanted it.” The pain that caused, made Dean gasp harder than the extra pull on his hair. “Liar. Lemme go! Let Cas go! Cas, Cas, buddy fight this asshat! C’mon man!” He growled at Lucifer and tried to pull free. “Dean, Dean! Wake up! You’re having a nightmare!” Sam’s voice sounded clear and normal, but Lucifer lit up. “If that isn’t my bunk buddy! Should I let go of my baby bro, and take yours again?”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panting, Dean shot upright. “Leave them both alone, asshat!” A soft “wow” had him turn his head. Sam was watching him from his own bed, hair mussed and eyes sleep-puffy. “An actual nightmare? Jeez Dean. What was it about?” Wanting to curl up and die, Dean rubbed his face. “Personal Hell.” Sam gasped and sat up. “Hell-dream? Really? They’re coming back?” With a longing for a bottle of Jack to wash this all into oblivion, Dean prepared for the worst. “No. Personal Hell, Sam. Like Lucifer making me choose between you and Cas.” There. He said it. Let the teasing begin. But Sam cursed softly and came over. “I’m sorry Dean. That must have been awful. But we’ll get Cas back, one way or another, and we’ll be ok.” Dean scoffed. “Sure. And we’ll gank Roman and save the fucking world again. Let’s just get some more sleep, huh?” He patted Sam on the shoulder and lay back down. Sam sighed and staggered to his own bed. “Night jerk.” Dean smiled in the darkness. “Night bitch,” he answered. At least he had Sammy back. Would’ve been nice to have his angel back too, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was ages before Dean got used to having normal dreams. Sure, he dreamed about Cas at times, but the feel of those dreams was different from the date and sex dreams. It was almost as if Cas had really left the building this time. They got one over on Roman, and purloined that special package. The thunder and lightning wasn’t as disturbing as getting a call from Meg was. Cas had woken up, and was acting pretty normal, Meg said. Without doubt and without even showering, Dean and Sam jumped in the Impala. Off to get Cas. Of course it wasn’t as easy as that. Cas was still not quite himself, and his adamant statement “I don’t fight anymore. I watch the bees” threw a serious wrench in their plans. But as plans go, they adapted it, and it was pretty ok. Until the point where Roman exploded and Dean found himself in frikken Purgatory! Cas disappeared on him, and he hardly had time to think, let alone really sleep and dream. He prayed to Cas, and met Benny. Even with Benny around, sleep was light and never long enough to dream. Dean got mopey and even more hellbent on getting his angel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“Dean, you should get more sleep, honestly.” Dean swung around. “Cas!” He ran up to the angel, and grabbed both his hands. “Cas... what happened?” Cas did his signature head-tilt. “I’m unsure as to what you mean, Dean. I am ok. You should focus on leaving. I am not hurt.” Dean frowned. That sounded so much like the detached, soldier-of-the-Lord, douche Cas had been in the very beginning, it was disturbing. “No way, buster. I’m getting you before leaving here...” Cas careful facade cracked. “Dean...” The blue eyes turned pleading and Dean had to steel himself against them. Sam had taught the angel well. “Cher, we need to go.” That was Benny’s voice. Dean turned to tell the vampire off, but he wasn’t there. When he turned back, neither was Cas</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damnit! Benny...” Dean started as he shook off the dream. “I know, chief, but these weres won’t wait until you had your beauty-sleep.” That had Dean up and ready in no time. After the slaughter and no info on Cas, Dean found time to ponder on the dream. Cas had said he was ok, unhurt. That meant he must have gotten at least a few of Dean’s desperate prayers, which meant he was still there. Dean’s determination set harder, he pushed through the bushes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even after leaving Purgatory, Dean didn’t dream those intense dreams anymore. Cas was still trapped in there, and Dean was half convinced he’d died there too. Then Cas was back, but with weird lapses and the Winchesters worried about him. He popped off at inconvenient times, zoned out and made weird decisions. Dean couldn’t help but think Purgatory had something to do with it. Yet Cas didn’t notice anything off with himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>“Dean?” Dean sat up in his bed. Sam was gone, and that fact alone made Dean realise this was another dream. “Hey, angel. What’s up?” Cas fidgeted with his coat. “Dean, I...” Miserable blue eyes looked up. “I’m scared.” Wait, what? Dean quickly made his way over to his angel. “Cas, what are you talking about?” White teeth biting down on a pink lip. “I feel torn in two. I want so much that everything is fine, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’m betraying you all over again. And I don’t know why.” Cas’ eyes were filled with unshed tears. It made him seem... human almost. “Cas, babe, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” He went to pull Cas in, but the angel pulled free, a scowl on his face. “Tell me something, Dean. Something only you would tell me.” Such an odd request. “Why? Cas...” Cas drew back further, tears flowing now, but also his blade in hand. “Tell me, Dean! Please... or I’m going to have to kill you... again.” </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Dean gulped. What the Hell? Cas never hurt him... not lethally anyway. “Cas, that’s crazy talk. You’d never hurt me.” Cas stepped back again. “That’s not it... no... I don’t want to... please don’t make me do it again...” Fear now clutched at Dean’s heart. Who was Cas pleading to? He sounded so scared. Like a little kid who is forced to go to a bad place. “Cas? Angel, please. You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” Cas sobbed openly now. “No... still not the right thing. Dean.. if it is you... please... say it. Say the one thing only the real Dean Winchester would say to me... please. I’m begging you.” At a loss, Dean stared at how his strong angel was crumbling before him. “Cas, love, no. Don’t... don’t go nuts again. I... I couldn’t stand that. I love you, Cas. I need you.” A radiant smile broke through on Cas’ face. “Dean!” He threw his blade aside and suddenly Dean had his arms full of angel. “It is you. It’s really you. Oh Dean!” Cas hugged him tight, then kissed him deeply. “Say those words to me when awake, Dean. Please?” Cas’ voice grew fuzzy, his eyes blurry. Dean clung to Cas’ request, so he would remember. “Don’t worry, angel. I will,” he promised</b>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will!” Dean sat up at his own voice calling out in the dark room. “Dean? Are you alright?” came Cas’ gravelly voice. Dean’s head spun with how normal Cas sounded. Hadn’t the angel just dreamwalked, and broken down, in Dean’s dream? He looked at Cas sharply, noticing he was zoned out a bit again. “Yeah, um, Cas?” Cas blinked, did his head-tilt. “Yes, Dean?” Dean shook his head slightly. This was trippy. “Did, um... did you... dreamwalk?” This time, since Dean was paying such close attention, it was clear as a bell. Cas’ gaze went unfocussed for a blink, his face slackened infinitesimally, and he just... froze. Only for an instant. “No, why would I do that?” Cas stated, straightfaced, but Dean saw confirmation in his eyes. Begging, just like in the dream. Begging Dean to help him. “Ok. Then it must have been just an odd dream.” Dean could see the hope fade in Cas’ eyes. Damnit! “Hey, buddy?” Cas blankly looked up at him again. “I love you, Cas. I need you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The change was instantaneous. Cas slumped, as if he was a puppet whose strings got cut. His cerulean eyes filled with tears. “Naomi... no. I will not! No, I cannot kill him!” What the... who the fuck was Naomi? Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulders and kissed him desperately. Cas stiffened, then kissed back, tears streaming between them. They were just as salty as human ones, Dean noticed. Cas dominated the kiss, pushing Dean back to his bed, straddling him. Stars were forming in Dean’s vision from lack of oxygen, but he let Cas go on. Suddenly, just as black was edging in, Cas let go. Dean took a huge gulp of air. “Oh no!” Cas said. “Dean, are you ok? Did I hurt you?” Dean took another breath. “I’m ok, Cas,” he promised. “Glad as I am that you two finally got your heads out of your respective asses, what the Hell is going on here?” Sam groused from his bed. “And who in all creation is Naomi? And what did she do to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blush was certainly burning all of Dean’s freckles off, but secretly Dean was pleased as punch about Sam’s reaction. “Valid questions there, Sammy. Tell us, Cas. Please?” If the Emanuel-fueled dreams were any real, Cas would love Dean’s pleas. Cas sighed. “Anything for you. Naomi... she’s an angel. She... reprograms rogue angels. Angels who don’t ‘follow the company line’ as you might say it. She...” Cas shuddered and hunched up. “She made me kill you, Dean. Well, facsimiles of you. They begged, they taunted, they mocked, they cried out that we were best friends, but I had to kill them. Thousands.” Dean tasted bile. “That bitch...” Sam muttered under his breath. Dean hugged Cas close, and the tension faded from his shoulders a bit. “Thousands, but not one told me he needed me. Not one said that, or that he loved me.” Cas smiled bitterly. “She had observed us on Earth, but she couldn’t know your dreams. She couldn’t know you and I grew closer in your mind, but you were uninclined to show it in real life.” Sam chuckled softly. “Always known it though, jerk,” he teasingly said. “Shut up, bitch. Be glad I was such a...” his imagination failed when Cas kissed him. “A resident of Narnia?” Sam grinned. “Don’t tease your brother, Sam,” Cas admonished. “His closeted nature was what saved me in the end. His words broke the hold Naomi had on me. That and his kiss.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock came to their door not an hour later. Dean carefully opened it to find a round faced young man standing there. He had big blue eyes and was wearing a Wiener hut uniform. “Can I help you, pal? It’s in the middle of the night.” The boy looked him in the eye, then smiled. He looked a little like Matt Pike, Dean thought. “Dean Winchester,” the boy said. Dean drew his Kurd knife. “Who’re you?” Behind him, Cas suddenly spoke up. “Samandriel! Brother, what are you doing here?” Dean didn’t relax a bit, only signaled Sam to throw him an Angel blade. “Great. Another angel. Who’s to say he isn’t sent by Naomi?” Samandriel tilted his blonde head. “No. Naomi is tearing up heaven trying to find a way to locate Castiel again.” Dean caught the blade Sam threw him from across the room. “Really? What’ll she do if she finds him? Turn him back to a robot with no heart?” Blue eyes locked onto his and Samandriel sighed. “No. Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem. But now it has been claimed, there is no way to undo it.” He blinked, then focussed on each of them in turn. “But I’m not here about my brother. I am here about Kevin Tran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Samandriel had solid information about the tablet and Kevin. It seemed a weird old Deity was trying to auction off the tablet and Kevin as a package deal. Of course they found Crowley, trying to get his filthy claws on Kevin, but when Cas offered a bit of his Grace, the God deemed it a done deal. “The Grace of a Seraph, who practices Free Will... an exquisite acquirement!” he called out. “I vow to not resell this, or use it as anything else than a quick medical aid.” The God cut his hand and did a blood oath on it. Then Cas healed him, and gave him a small vial of Grace. Dean didn’t like it one bit. “Cas, your Grace...” Cas threw him a glare. “A small price for Kevin, wouldn’t you say?” Dean bit his lip. Without his Grace, Cas would be human. And Dean had a distinct feeling certain things wouldn’t be the same if he was. Yet this was a small bit. Surely, like a human’s blood, it would replenish itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas seemed marginally ok, for a guy who had his frikken head messed with. The strange instances of blankness had gone, and they never returned. Dean and he were a little closer than before, but not openly dating or out with their relation. They kissed sometimes, especially when going on dangerous hunts, but they didn’t take it further. Dean actually missed the dream dates.  Even though he could have them for real, they somehow never happened. Sam was always there, hunts kept popping up. There never was any time. Dean decided to try and fix that. He waited until Sam was busy paying for gas and some road snacks, then he turned to Cas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cas,” he wavered, unsure of how to actually broach this. “What is it, Dean? Is something bothering you?” Observant angel. “Yeah. I.. Ehm... I was kinda hoping we could, I dunno... date again? Soon?” Damnit why did he have to blush? To make things worse, Sam was not taking his time and Dean could see him walking back to them. “Yes, Dean. I would certainly like that. I enjoyed our dates very much.” Oh, thank the great Gods of Pie. Sam wasn’t there yet, and he still had an answer. “So guys, get his...” Sam started as soon as he opened the door. Dean hung his head. “What, Sammy? Something?” Sam gave him a quizzical look, but continued. “Yeah... this girl said there have been weird disappearances near a lake, twenty miles from here. Shall we check it out?” With an inaudible sigh, Dean gunned the engine. “Sure thing. Could be just our thing, right Cas?” Cas nodded sincerely. “It very well could be.” Sam grinned. “Alright! Let’s check it out.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean was wet, tired and nearly drowned. The case at the lake had turned out to be a kelpie, that had come with an immigrating family. He peeled off his sopping wet clothing, grousing and grumbling at Sam that Damnit, he could have acted sooner with the Celtic sigil, and how was he supposed to know that that tiny pony was the kelpie? Cas had offered to help him dry off, but Dean just wanted a hot shower, so that was redundant. He turned the heat up and with a ginormous sigh, Dean stepped under the stream. The hot water relaxed him, and all tension shifted from his muscles. He softly moaned as exhaustion settled in. He got all rosy and sleepy, so he swiftly dried off and got ready for bed. “Night, jerk,” Sam called from the other bed, where he had planted his butt with his precious laptop. “Night, bitch,” Dean called back. “Night, Cas.” Cas smiled at him from where he sat at the dinette.”Sleep well, Dean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Dean looked around. He was at the Roadhouse. Ellen behind the bar, Jo playing cards with some dumb idiots who were under the misconception that a sweet, young thing like her could never win in a dirty game like poker. She’d clean them out, Dean knew. At the pool table, Ash raised his hand at him. Shit. Had he died? “Dean...” He snapped his head around. Cas. Relief flooded Dean. Cas wouldn’t let him stay dead. “I hope you don’t mind us coming here for a date. I sensed that you might like for me to meet the rest of the family.” What? Bobby came sauntering in, tatty and surly as ever. “Well, finally,” the old grump chuckled. “Did you pull his head out, Cas, or did he crawl outta Narnia himself?” Dean harrumphed. “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence there, Bobby.” </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Bobby shrugged. “Boy, I’ve known you most of your life, nursed you through some bad shit, but you were never as broken as when it looked like your angel had died. I saw the two of you together for nearly three bloody years, and at first I thought you two were just fresh, and afraid to tell me.” He smirked in his scruff. “Then I thought you two were having a go at me, pulling my leg, but you two idjets kept dancing around each other like two alley cats about to start fightin’. Well, fightin’ or lovin’. Guess I now know.” Dean blushed deeply. Jo came sauntering near, counting her winnings. “Hey Dean. Oh... and the angel...Hm.” She smiled secretively. Dean sighed and dropped his head to his chin. “Ok Joanna-Beth, have at me then.”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>The knife was just her playing, and Dean knew it, but Cas huffed himself up in alarm. “No need, Cas,” Dean placatingly called. “Jo isn’t gonna hurt me, are you?” Jo grinned impishly. “Nah. He can do that aaaall by himself. I’m just messing. Good to see the angel got you to forget some biased prejudices.” She turned to Cas and hugged him briefly. “Tell me... did he at least kiss you proper before dying?” Cas blinked. “Ehm... no... not the first few times,” he answered in true Cas-fashion. “HAH!” A voice from their back called and they turned around. “Charlie?” Dean called. “Aren’t you in Oz? Did you die? Tell me you didn’t die!” Cas put a hand on Dean’s left shoulder. “Dean... you have not died. You’re dreaming.” Dean sagged a little in relief. “Oh thank the great Gods of Pie.”</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Cas tilted his head in that curious way he had. “Ehm... there are no Gods of baked confections, Dean.” Dean burst out laughing. “Never change, Cas, never change...” he managed to say. Cas just tilted his head. “I have no intention to do so. I just wanted to take you on another date.” Dean sighed and kissed him deeply. “Hmmm, Cas, you’re the best. Love you, angel.” Cas kissed back and ruffled his hair. “And I love you, Dean. Don’t ever doubt that.” </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean awoke with a gentle smile and a happy sigh. “Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep well?” Cas rumbled from the dinette. Sitting up, Dean yawned. “Hmh... Yeah... had a good dream. Happy.” He shrewdly looked at Cas, who smiled. “That is good to hear, Dean,” Sam piped up from the other bed, where he was yet again browsing the net for cases. Dean bit his lip. As much fun as this dream date had been, he actually wanted to take Cas on a real date. He knew Sam wouldn’t mind. Sam was fine with him being… you know… into guys too. But ever since he’d snapped Cas out of that weird trance, they just rolled from case to case, to near end-of-the-frikken-world again. And they just never got to be a ‘them’. An item as it were. And Dean really, really wanted to be just that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They hunted the nest of vampires and Dean was happy to end their reign of terror over a little town in Iowa. Sam dove online again, and Dean just groaned. “Jesus Christ, Sammy. Can’t we get a little time off? I don’t mind hunting, but we’ve been on a frikken hunting-spree, man. Time to tap the breaks a bit.” That got him two curious glances. “Are you ok, Dean?” Sam asked, worry colouring his voice. Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I’m just.. tired I think. I wish we had a homebase from where we work. Y’know... A place to kick back and relax between hunts.” Sam opened his mouth to answer, when the closet opened and a guy tumbled out. Dressed to the nines, dark hair and very shocked looking. His skin was almost translucent. “Which of you is John Winchester?” he asked, panting slightly. “Eh.. none of us…” Cas replied softly. “Dean...Sam… This man is.. not from now.” Dean snapped his head around to his angel. “You what?” Cas nodded. “I think…” He inhaled deeply. “I think he is from the late nineteen fifties. But… he reeks.” The pale man looked affronted. “Excuse me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg your pardon, but to me you do.” Cas sniffed. “Sulfur, fear, dragon tears, and… angel feather? How… wait…” He walked up to the door the man had just tumbled from. “Hm,” he hummed. “Efficient. But crudely done. Hang on.” He muttered a few words in Enochian and the door glowed briefly, then a loud bang sounded and the door shuddered. Cas looked slightly unsettled by the last two, but he nodded, satisfied. “That should do it. Dean…” He motioned for Dean to go ahead. Dean blinked, a bit confused, but pretty amazed at his angel. “Right. Who the hell are you, mister?” The man looked confused. “Not John? And this man… he knows Enochian? Where did you learn it, sir?” Cas raised that one brow, the one Dean got weak knees from, and stared at him. “From creation.” Cas turned to Dean. “Dean, he used powerful magic to get here. Blood Magic. I think we should hear him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man shucked his blue suit jacket straight and tried to walk out, but both Sam and Dean crowded him. “Nope,” Dean said, pinning him to the wall. “None of you is John Winchester. Please, I need to talk to him, and only him.” Sam bit his lip, but Dean growled. This asshat wanted to talk to his dead dad, no way that wasn’t weird. “You just fell out of our closet, reeking of strong magic, asking for our dad, and you think we’re just gonna let you walk? You got another thing coming.” The man’s eyes widened and he worked his mouth. It took a while, but he finally spoke. “Dad? John is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>father</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Dean shrugged, nodded to Sam. “His and mine. Not Cas’. Cas’ dad… well… he’s kind of a dick.” Cas glared at him. He could feel it. “Dean…” Dean chuckled. “What? I ain’t wrong.” Now he could almost feel the eyeroll. “Stop rolling your eyes at me, hon. You’re gonna strain a muscle.” Sam chuckled and Cas sucked in a quiet little breath. Later concerns. First this clown. “So, asshat, why ask for our dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man, impressively, straightened. “I need to talk to your father, please. Show me to him.” Sam coughed. “Would, if we could…” The man bristled. “Why not? Have I not made myself clear enough?” Dean felt his patience snap with a sharp little noise. “Because he’s dead, capisce?” The man paled even more and sat down hard. “No… please…” That wasn’t quite the reaction Dean or Sam had expected. “What is it to you? And who are you?” Dean barked, but it didn’t have much fire behind it. The man looked at Dean, tears shimmering in his blue eyes. “I’m his father. I’m Henry Winchester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinked. No. No fucking way. That would mean this guy didn’t purposely walk out on dad. Something was gonna keep him here. Dean fervently hoped it was a simple case of not finding the right ingredients to reverse the spell, and Cas, bless his heart, not having enough Grace to do it for him. “Prove it,” he snapped instead. Henry pulled out his wallet and showed his ID. Being a pro at falsifying those things, Dean studied it carefully. “Well, welcome to 2013, pops.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry winced. “Yeah, the Mayans had it wrong,” Dean chuckled. “That’s not it,” the other said. “John used to call me pops too. It… it kind of hurts, knowing he’s…” Regret made Dean bite his lip. “Crap. Sorry, Henry. I didn’t…” Henry visibly regrouped. “Well. Then take me to headquarters, please.” Dean blankly looked at Sam, who looked equally stumped. “Headquarters?” Sam queried. “What headquarters?” Henry loomed between them, baffled. “Why the Men of Letters one, of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas sighed. “I regret to inform you, Mr. Winchester, that that organisation has ceased to exist in the U.S. in 1958. They were slaughtered by a demon called…” Henry’s eyes widened, then grew sad. “Abaddon,” he finished. Cas tilted his head. “Indeed.” Henry sat down, fidgeting with a carved wooden box. “I was there. That is how I came here. I was to be initiated, given access to the archives. Instead I got to see her rip apart my mentors.” He looked up. “That’s why I did the spell. To flee from her. My mentor Larry handed me this box, to keep safe from her.” He showed them the carved wooden box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean huffed a breath. “Let me get this straight. You traveled through time to protect something that does you don't know what from a demon that you know nothing about?” Henry shrugged. “Good. Great. So how big is the chance this Hell bitch will turn up?” Another shrug, having Dean throw up his hands. “Do calm down, Dean,” Cas said in his gravelly voice. “We should try and find a way to get information about the night Abaddon killed the chapter. It might help find out what the box does. And as for Henry not knowing about her, you know I do. So stop being a drama king.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled. “Ah, Cas… you’re amazing. Sammy, hand me the computer, will ya?” Henry scoffed. “Like you could fit a computer in this room.” Cas just looked at him. “These days one can. This one is actually pretty big. There are smaller ones available.” Dean paid them no mind as he typed. “1958, you said? Here we go… August 12th, 4 dead in a fire at...242 Gaines Street. Ring any bells?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry swallowed. “That’s headquarters and the date of my initiation, but there was no fire.” Sam bit his lip. “So, you wanna go there? Check it out?” Henry looked dubious. “If the chapter was eradicated, would it have any use?” He glanced at both his grandsons. “It might not even be owned by the MOL anymore.” Dean pouted and twitched his head. “I can see what the web says.” He tapped, clicked and read. “Seems like a collection of stores. Comics, bakery… all kinds of stuff.” He looked up at Henry. “Sound like any cover your people would use?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My people? Aren’t they your people too?” The brothers blinked. “Ehm… no?” Sam wavered, and Dean shrugged. “Cas said you guys stopped being active in ‘58. Guess Abaddon wiped you off the map. Sorry, Henry.” He clicked back to the article about the supposed fire. “Sammy, any of these sound familiar?” Sam leaned in and read. “Larry Ganem, David Ackers, Ted Bowen, and Albert Magnus – all deceased.” Henry made a surprised sound. “Albert Magnus… huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean cocked his head at his grandfather. “He a friend of yours?” Henry smiled. “Even better. Can this miracle machine tell us where he is buried?” Sam smiled too. “Sure can. Hang on.” His long fingers tapped away. Not too much later, they were on the road, zooming towards a cemetery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found the grave, the hidden message and the surviving mentor. “Larry?” Henry asked the elderly, blind man in the chintz chair. “Henry? No way. I thought that hellspawn got you too.” Henry knelt next to his old mentor. “No, she didn’t. I used a blood spell, but it sent me here, to 2013, not home.” Larry chuckled. “Might be for the best, dear boy. She couldn’t follow you here.” Cas spoke up. “She nearly did, sir. I managed to force the door closed before she broke through, but it was close.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean quirked an eyebrow at that. “So that thump was her knocking? Glad she didn’t follow you sooner, man.” Cas nodded. “I’m afraid it was, but we may never know what became of her. So, the box, was it important?” Larry nodded. “In the box is the key to every object, scroll, spell ever collected for thousands of years under one roof. It is the supernatural mother lode.” A woman’s voice piped up from the door. “Did you bring it?” Both Cas and the brothers jumped up, grouping around Larry and Henry, shielding them. “Who wants to know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larry’s wife cackled an ugly laugh. “Aaahhh oh dear. Seems your offspring isn’t much more observant than you, Henry.” Henry’s voice could burn holes in the floor, as venomous as it sounded. “Abaddon.” Abaddon tittered. “On the nose, Henry dear. So, did you bring it?” Sam pushed Henry further behind him. “No. It’s not here.” Abaddon grabbed his chin. “Lying is not nice, Sam.” She looked over his shoulder. “Henry?” Henry pushed passed Sam, jostling the bigger man. “Leave them be, Abaddon. I’m the one you want.” Sam reached out for him. “Henry, no!” Henry smiled at him. “Gotta do what you gotta do for family, Sam. I had a long talk with Dean on the way here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abaddon smiled evilly and jerked the man closer. “How touching. Now hand it over like a good boy, Henry.” She suddenly jammed her hand right through his abdomen. Dean had to hold Sam back. “Sammy, wait this one out, bud. He isn’t down yet.” Henry smiled at him, his teeth smeared red. “Dean is right,” he panted and suddenly pressed Dean's pearl handled gun to the demon’s chin and fired. Abaddon shrieked, her head alight with an orange glow, but she didn’t flinch. “Whoo! What a blast. Now, give me the box,” she chuckled, patting Henry down. Her eyes lit up and she pulled her hand back, only to reveal a pack of playing cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abaddon’s triumphant smile slid off and turned to a snarl. “Where is it?!” she shrieked, cracking the tv and making the whole building shake. She tried to turn to the group of men to the side, but she couldn’t move her legs. At all. Henry’s red tinted smile widened. “Heh. Smarts run in the family. Dean told me about some cases you guys did and how you trapped demons by cleverly hiding the traps. So I decided to take a shot as it were. Devils Trap carved in a bullet. Dean liked it. Looks like it works, son.” Dean could hear the last breaths on the man. Damnit. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “Good job, gramps. True Winchester style!” A glance at Sam told him that he also knew Henry was breathing his last. His brother’s eyes were tearing up. Cas looked solemn and sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abaddon was raging and twisting, still trying to get free. “Cas?” Dean asked looking between him, the livid demon and Larry. Cas looked the demon over with that X-ray stare and sadly shook his head. “Probably gone before Larry even met her,” he said softly, and Larry choked out a sob. “I’m sorry for your loss, Larry,” Dean said, then produced the Kurd knife from his jacket and stabbed Abbadon in the stomach. She groaned and blinked. “What the… why isn’t she dead by now?” Dean wondered. Cas studied the demon and answered. “She is a Knight of Hell. One of the first demons forged after Lilith. Very pure, very powerful. I thought the Archangels had gotten rid of them all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well they either forgot her,” Dean grumbled. “Or didn’t do a very good job of it, because here she is. So, now what?” Henry panted. “You’re Winchesters. You’ll figure it out. As long as she cannot rise ah...again.” Sam ran over and hugged him to his chest. “Shit, Henry… Cas, can you…” He wiggled his fingers. Cas walked over, but Henry waved him off. “No. I… uhhh...I don’t want to be magically healed. I...hnnn.. I think this… was my destiny. Don…. don’t be sad, boys… I’ll see Milly again. And John.” Dean rubbed his mouth, not to start crying. “Fuck… Henry… for a bookworm, you did awesome. How did you switch the box on her?” Henry chuckled, then coughed, blood splattering the carpet. “Sleight of hand. Always… wanted to be… magician. Box… in Sam’s pocket. See… See you on the other…. side.” His head sank to his chest. Sam bit his lip, looking up at Dean and Cas. None of them had dry eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam, Dean. He was a gifted man. And he passed it on to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Larry cleared his throat. “As I am now the last US Man of Letters, I hereby declare that you, as Henry Winchester’s offspring, are entitled to access the archive. Address is in the box. I will retire, seeing I think I am going to have a heart attack. And no, Mr. Cas. I do not wish to be revived.” He leaned back and sighed. After a few uncomfortable moments, he sighed again. “Get a machete and cut the bitch up, dump the pieces, encased in concrete, all over the states. Maybe, for good measure, use hex boxes as well.” Dean chuckled. “Savage. I like it. You’re a good guy, Larry.” Larry shrugged. “No. Just had enough of her ruining good people’s lives.” He leaned back again, another sigh leaving his lips. </span>
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  <span>When Dean came back with some garbage bags and a freshly sharpened machete, Cas was standing over him. “He was right. Heart attack.” He covered Larry respectfully with a quilt, under the scowling face of Abaddon. Cas turned to her with hard, accusing eyes. “Why did you do this to him? Pretend to love and care for him all these years?” Abaddon cackled. “I knew Henry would turn up one day, about the key. So I wanted to be in position to get it. The old blind bat had a nice life off it. First heart attack, I caught. Same as every one after. I wanted him alive for Henry to find him. Had I known it would take him decades to fucking show up…” She aimed a demonic blast at Henry’s corpse, but it didn’t reach him, as he was lying just outside of the Devil’s Trap range. Dean eyed the carpet. “Cas, Sam, put those bags down. If we keep the carpet clean, Larry can get a proper funeral, by his next of kin.”</span>
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  <span>They did as Larry suggested, gave Henry a Hunter's funeral and then alerted the authorities about stumbling on Larry’s corpse while trying to visit their ‘great-uncle’. Cas found a brother that was shocked that Larry had been alive, but willing to give him a proper send off. With all that settled, the brothers and Cas sat in the Impala, Sam twirling the box around in his hand. “Do… do you want to go see if this place is still there? It’s just outside this town,” he said, uncertainty colouring his words. Dean shrugged. “Yeah, why not. Larry said we could. Angel? You game?” Cas smiled at him. “You know I will go wherever you go, Dean.”</span>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The archive, or the Bunker, as Dean instantly called it, after one brief mention of ‘the Batcave’, was way more than just an archive. It had storage rooms, a shooting range, bed rooms, showers, a laundry room, somehow its own power supply, was warded up the wazoo (again Dean’s words), and possibly holding the most texts, scrolls and information on the Supernatural, Cas had ever seen.</span>
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<p>
  <span>“I’m calling dibs on this room!” came Sam’s voice from a corridor. Cas chuckled. For all they had been through, Dean and his brother were sometimes still children at heart. “Fine, bitch,” Dean instantly replied snarky. “I don’t care. I found a sweet room right here. All the way up this corridor. At least three doors away from your ass.” Sam huffed a little, then replied in kind. “Awesome, jerk. Finally a chance to sleep without your happy dreams waking me up!” That reminded Cas of something and he sauntered easily to where he could feel Dean was. “Dean?” he wavered, waiting just outside the door. Dean turned around and a happy smile lit up his face. “Hey, angel mine. What’s up?”</span>
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<p>
  <span>Cas sighed. “Would you mind terribly if I… if we…” He dropped his gaze. “I don’t think I can dreamwalk much more. My Grace is replenishing slower and slower, and I fear I will have to save it for emergencies. So you see…” Dean caught Cas’ chin his hand. “Cas, how about this: We stop dream-dating and start dating for real? Huh? Be an honest to God couple. To be very frank… I… I kinda hoped you would want to stay with me tonight?” Those beautiful, green eyes looked up through blonde lashes and how could Cas refuse? “Of course I would, Dean. I would love to be a couple with you. If I could dream, that would be my dream.” Dean smiled warmly. “Then let us make it come true, angel.” Then he pulled Cas closer and kissed him softly. For once there was no hurry, no pressure behind the kiss. It was just a sweet meeting of lips. “Hm,” Cas hummed when Dean pulled free. “That was strangely satisfying, but not as fevered as our kisses in your dreams.” Dean smirked at that. “Well… it could be.” </span>
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<p>
  <span>“Hmmm. I like that, Dean. But after we are done settling in, ok? I think I would like my own room too.” Seeing Dean’s face fall, Cas quickly kissed his brow. “Just as a safety net. I think you and I will find reasons to fight every now and then. I just need a place to retreat to at those times. But for now I want to be here, in this room with you.” Dean’s face lit up again. “My smart angel… I want that too. Cas… I love you. So much it astounds me. I know it is not a romantic setting, or a perfect date, but… would you marry me? Please?”</span>
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<p>
  <span>Cas blinked. “Oh Dean! I… of course I would, but who would preside the wedding? I mean, you’re legally dead… twice, and I’m officially a missing person.” Dean grinned. “Oh, I think that’s not gonna be a problem.” He opened the door and yelled out. “Oi! Sammy! You still ordained?”</span>
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<p>
  <b>Epilogue</b>
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<p>
  <span>Jody was mopping her eyes, Donna was doing the same next to her. Claire was watching Dean with narrowed eyes. “You gonna be good, right?” Dean smiled at the surly kid. “Of course. I’m not ruining this for anything.” Sam coughed next to him and sent Claire off with his eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him, but moved anyway. Every eye in the room turned to the passage with the library, where Cas stood, magnificent in a new, black suit with royal blue accents that highlighted his eyes perfectly. The twig of blue hydrangea on his lapel blending in like it belonged there. Cas walked over to where Dean stood and grabbed his hands. “Hello, Dean.”</span>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wel, there we go. Idjets in love, finally together. As it should be. <br/>Thank you all for reading, leaving Kudos and/or comments. I love and appreciate you all. <br/>The biggest hugs from Holland</p>
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